Saturday, May 25, 2013


it feels cold from all the ice that was used to keep it fresh and its slippery body is limp in my hands. Its glassy eyes are wide open and unseeing. Its mouth; a gaping void, drawing in its last gulp of seawater. It's frozen in time, in its moment of death.

and when i press the sharp edge of my knife against it, its skin resists for a moment and then, barely a second later, gives way and breaks. Strings of gut and blood spill onto the table top and i pull the knife away trailing its innards. I scrap the pieces into the feeding bin and run the knife under the tap. i watch the red and black disappear into the drain and i feel like a murderer.

i think i lost a small part of my soul today.

i love fish, okay? I pick fish over chicken, i pick fish over lamb, i pick fish over beef, i pick fish. i love it raw and i love it steamed, grilled, fried and cooked in any way possible.

me and fish, we have a love affair, an all-consuming one. heh.

but actually, physically slicing it while it's still very much whole is well, pretty sickening.

but after a while, i became numb to it and i threw myself against the clock. How many can i cut through before the minute is up?

and i wonder if a bit of my soul had died.
and i wonder where did it go?

No comments:

Post a Comment

tell me something