Mercury pools at my feet
…liquid silver, sly, languidly under my soft summer sandals.
Knives are no good against this sort of deceit.
I can see my secrets soaking into the ground.
They are blood red, like everything else.
Mercury! It has seeped into my veins
and crawls through my body, mocking me.
Nothing is mine but I pretend it isn't anyway.
What good is Mercury without ambition?
This must be a joke—
a practical one.
A terrible one.
Mercury is math, it's π, it's science, it's physics or something.
Normally I'd know what to do but my computer's crashed.
Mercury builds up in my stomach and my throat.
If you cut me right now, would I bleed?
You'd love to—
But remember…? I said,
'Knives are no good against this sort of defeat.'
or deceit?
It doesn't matter—I'm right.
And you're dead anyway. Mercury Falling. Hah. Phoenix Rising.
Fields of Gold, or Walking on Broken Glass. Walking On The Moon.
I can't feel the wind in my hair anymore.