Memory

Memory

Here is a piece of paper, unstained, cold and crisp.
I tore it in half, in fourths, gripped it grudgingly in my fist and put it in my mouth.
I chewed it.
It tasted of dreams and sunsets of long ago.
Also of revenge, of ink and of the tears I bled when the werewolf's fangs plunged deep into my flesh.
I taste the chilly nights I spent on the alleys unfamished, only to be waken by the phantoms who stole my sight.
I taste them, their spite, the petals of corruption, the wrinkles of their greed.
I could taste the man who spoke truths in old whispers, and the woman who cursed at romance's feet.
I could taste the anthem of the souls who screech for justice.
I could taste the chemicals that the scientists injected into the whimpering guniea pig.
I could taste the end of the world.
Here is a piece of paper. Chew it well.