Aarushi Prasad, Arson in My Arteries

Arson in my Arteries

Aarushi Prasad

chapped, unpigmented lips yearning for matrimonial moistness, her pupils gazed intently, at the rusted pendulum that swinged to the beat of her pulsating heart

forbidden concoctions of rum and coke became one with her benign blood as sweaty palms blissfully caressed every inch of her cellulite-infested flesh.

the thrusting weight lifted off her he smiled. she smiled he turned over. she turned over he slept. she craved

under the blankets of prejudice she worked and worked propelling herself into utopias where her toe-twitching thirsts were not quenched by diabolic poisons of patriarchy.

her moans escaped the long empty corridors of her vocal cords, only to be deflected from the blackboards of societal pedagogy

i’ll be good she had promised to her ailing father as she watched him transform into pale rock i’ll be good and the goodness made all the difference