entry for Friday Fictioneers, June 28, 2013

How it left my mouth, toward her.  How long I’d ached and labored it.  How meticulously prepared.  From amorphous origins – a preoccupation and urge, a hunch, desire.  Like longing + some desperate attention.  Had I shared this constant process, they’d have named it “obsession.”  A phrase, a statement, a promise, a claim.  How it left my mouth when the moment arrived, arrowing itself toward her.  A chiseled and hair-thin fibre of sound, a core-content-chain of DNA, let free in the matter between us.  How it blurred and whooshed past.  Disintegrative and smeared in possible meanings.  How quickly the resulting compound decomposed and deconstructed.