John Henry

I touch it to my tongue, trying to savour some remnant of the rich, heady liquor it once held. But the taste is old and sour. The fragment's sharp edges cut my tongue, making it bleed and striking me dumb. It leaves a lasting pain.

Panic and a rushing pulse only makes the blood flow ever more freely until it drips from my lips and onto my shirt. A stain that will not wash out.

I grab it in my hand and squeeze it close to my palm, afraid I should try to tase it again, afraid to let go. Longing for it to be whole again, undropped, unshattered and full.

It bites deeper into my skin until, suddenly, it shatters again. Fragments of a fragment.

Smaller and more broken down still.

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"No one was behaving from very Buddhist motives. Then, thought Pigsy, he was hardly a Buddha, nor was he a monkey. Presently, he was a pig spirit changed into a little girl pretending to be a little boy to be offered to a water monster. It was all very simple to a pig spirit."

heather99

Um. Yes. It's good. Very deep and thought provoking. I'll look for your other postings(if there are any). Thanks