shaVe

Erik Flask

I need to shave down my trachea.

It is so prominent.

It has sharp edges that make it tough to shave my beard, and that is difficult each day in front of the mirror.

I have to shift it to the left and then the right while I drive my razor like a Zamboni

getting my face smooth and ready again.

The problem is symmetrical, but still wrong. Adam and his apple are wrong.

The triangular shape is massively bothersome.

The triangular shape is not really a triangle, but an unidentifiable shape whose function I don’t really know.

I loathe like nothing else the repulsive complex geometry of that shape,

part of which is probably in another dimension like the 5th or somewhere I can’t explain,

and that makes it much harder to justify.

No one else even looks at their throats, and they get to order coffee with confidence.

No one will retreat in horror as their throat bulges in offence when they sip.

These polite fiends gulp in front of others and don’t turn away to hide their obscene throat wobbles.

These people, they have no oversized and evil lump.

There is no triangular voice boxed in a too-big cage.

I never knew how grotesque relatively hard cartilage was until I really felt around and tried to smush it down.

It’s like something indecent covered by the thin skin on my neck

like a waxen, translucent, firm & rubbery fragment on a plate,

the unidentifiable residue of a rotisserie chicken.

Sometimes there is so much hurt when swallowing.

Very sharp.

It is a weapon of defense.

If someone tries to strangle me from behind, they will slice their hands on it and pull away bloody fingers.

But that’s not gonna happen, so it’s not something valuable.