Friday, 4 February 2011
I’m metamorphosing. Metamorphosising. Transforming, with the WHO-CH-CH-CH noise like they make in the cartoons. You know the one. I’m not harder, better or stronger but I’m certainly hairier, leggier and more deadly. Damn. This was never in my New Year’s resolution list. This isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted a, “life changing evening.” And the bass is thump thumping so hard that I can feel my eyeballs vibrate in their sockets. And the floor’s lit up and everybody’s jumping mindlessly; sweaty bodies moving oddly on a dance floor.
I’m just still, looking at my hand. Looking at my hand and the third arm that’s appeared, with eyesight that’s like staring through diamonds.