how to identify an origin story / how to play operation / how to drink the whole ocean

WHAT GOOD IS A BODY IF IT’S BLOATED AND MAROONED WHALELIKE? THE

MOON SO SWOLLEN AND TWITCHINGBRIGHT, CASTING A HOLOGRAM OF LIGHT

ON MY WANTON PALE SKIN? THE STERILE SMELL OF AMMONIA AND

LATEXWHITE LINGERS TOO LONG IT WILL BE ALL YOU EVER TASTE ON ME.

UPON FURTHER EXAMINATION, I AM HARPOONED IN THE STOMACH, THE ROD

RUSTED BY CHLORINE ROT, NO MATTER HOW MUCH BLOOD I COUGH INTO

THE WATERSHORE, NO MATTER HOW MUCH IT PURPLES, IT WON’T DISSOLVE

ON MY TONGUE.

THIS IS AN OFFERING THAT DOES NOT CONCERN ME BECAUSE WHAT GOOD

AM I? THERE IS NO REAL SACRIFICE SPLUTTERING FROM MY LIPS AS THE

SAND MOLDS ON MY JUGULAR, FACEFIRST ON THE BEACH, IF I’M STILL

BREATHING.

YOU TOLD ME NO ONE WOULD BE A BETTER VICTIM, BUT WHAT GOOD IS A

BODY BLOATED WITH BUGS AND MUCK FROM THE POOL GUTTER, A BODY SO

DISGUSTING BECAUSE YOU MUST PILL YOUR FINGERS IN MY MOUTH, YOUR

WRIST CLEAN ENOUGH TO SEE THE STARSPANGLED SCARIFICATION, SELF-

INFLICTED WITH SICKENING PRIDE.

DID YOU THINK ANY OF THIS PRODDING WOULD SAVE ME? EVEN WHEN ALL

YOU PLAN TO DO IS DUMP ME IN THE OCEAN IN THE END? WATCH HOW THE

BLUENESS PEPPERS THE VISION. DO YOU SEE HOW IT STEEPS UNTIL THERE

IS ONLY BLUE TO REACH FOR, TO BECOME?