It all begins with growing noises. The nausea. It makes me feel sick. I can’t walk in a straight line. I can hear people talking, but their lips aren’t moving. The priest is surely hiding terrible secrets. Soon enough I realize that my dead ear is now perceiving people’s deepest thoughts, as my good one catches their lies: a whole world separates them both. The hypocrisy is so strong in them that I pierce my second ear to fall in phase only with dirt in them. The dirt in them. The old whip feels so good in my hand. Feels so good.
