////`

the unseen

the sounds of lunchtime
fill the room
glasses clink
silverware scrapes against plates
laughter
talk
tears
whispers
mix as one
the cash register rings a sale
chairs slide against the floor
a table fills
a table empties
a man belches
his aprroval of the meal
the bell above the door jingles
another patron steps inside
she brings dessert
a special dish she made herself
looking at the lunch crowd
she takes a breath then swallows
as the hostess comes to offer a seat
she serves her dish of hatred
the explosion rips the room
the diners feast
from this buffet of death
a specialty in the middle east
please dont tip the waitress

lifeisworth

women don't sweat
they perspire
women don't die
they expire
women don't blast
other people in fire
women birth
men sire

so why would she don a dress of plastiques?
for forty sweet wives at the eternal feast?
or was she just trying to break through god's glass ceiling?





cwazy chick...