Chronicles of Deficiency

by Serena Spinello

Diaphoresis rouses me and I find myself surrounded by empty pill bottles. The scent of decay and rot revolts me and I am able to conclude that it is seeping out from both my pours and putrid soul. I stumble to the mirror to inspect my reflection; my skin is still pale, my shell is frail and my bones protrude, since they too are trying to abandon me. Running my worn fingers over my tragic arms I note my veins which are salient and ripe for entry. Searching for an antidote, I find, swig down, my trusty carafe of aqua vitae. There is no antidote that can extinguish the inferno that is ablaze in my core, so I venture back into the world, purposefully dressed in white to contract my impureness.


Serena Spinello is in the process of obtaining her M.A. in English. She enjoys writing, playing with her dog and making people feel awkward as often as possible.

1 comment:

Quin said...

nice description..could be any number of the 2a riders on the f train.