Exquisite Corpse – Blue & Yellow
“Le cadavre exquis boira le vin nouveau.”
Here are two pieces me and my friend Kerrie wrote, drunk at the bar, intently folding the little scraps of blue and yellow paper over and over as we wrote our sentences, leaving only a word or two to continue. I loved the outcome so much that I snatched them up quick and hid them in my moleskin so I could check if they were just as beautiful sober.
The only thing I’ve added is a little punctuation and highlighted the only words we could see to continue the piece with.
I lost my thrill, it slipped through the cracks of boredom and repetition, and repetition, and repetition, and repetition and and and I’m not even afraid of keeping the sheets wrapped tightly around my neck. I could feel the fingers squeezing my larynx and the blood to my brain ceased to help. All that worked was her heart and her cunt beneath the fluorescent lights of the fast food restaurant. Would you like fries with that? Would you like my eyes with that? Would you like it hard, rough, soft, delightful? It’s all the same to me.
The constant drone of voices was like gravel rash in my brain. Nothing made sense, just fucking noise that sounded like nails down a chalkboard. I gritted my teeth and prayed to whatever, whoever god was. ‘Show me a fucking sign, make the lights flicker or the tap drip, drip drip. The sound kept me awake at night, it hounded me like a fucking doggy in the window. Woof, woof. The one with the waggily tail. How much is what I thought it would be? Blood? Crushed metal? Scared children? Even at such a young age most humans are designed to be cunts. The mother loves the baby and the baby decides the outcome in the end.