She dreams her breasts are full of crude oil, lodged inside the ducts and the tiny spaces between glandular tissue.
The petroleum profiteers mount two oil rigs on her torso and impale her breasts, telling her there’s a shortage and it’s up to her to end it. They say she will get used to the tugging sensation, they say it’s no different than breastfeeding—so (they say) we’re not taking anything you weren’t designed to give.
The two oil drills—their tongues embedded and full of lies—nod in agreement, up and down, over and over again; but the system is rigged.
They only ever nod in agreement.
No comments:
Post a Comment