Undulating [story:”the KarKari don’t want to die”] [Day6, #100DaysOfStories]

[how can I arrange the different sections of this story so that there is a feeling of revelations? Such as: section 1: the addictive drug Carson, section 2: how the karKari die. what would be section three? why is my writing so grotesquely clunky in these sections?]

Za’ae undulates above me. From between my legs a pleasure grows and spreads, reminding me that once, this was all humans cared for. I smile at the thought, at humans caught in a silly dance, obsessed with their procreation. For a second I don’t recognize my reflection in the mirror overhead and I am distracted by the spiderweb of blood vessels in my eyes, the crookedness of my smile, the mouth full of seemingly broken teeth. Can twenty-four  hours on carson have degraded me that much? I start to laugh, because it’s funny, it’s so funny, but then Za’ae lifts my lower half in a parody of thrust.

Her octopine legs rock me back and forth and I remember an immerse I saw of mammalian procreation.  We’d been in transit, which is to say we were bored, restless, willing to watch most anything while we waited to go planetside. The finer points of the lecture were lost on me. What I remembered were the large, whole body gestures, the pecularity of the action, like bodies locked together, yet crashing into one another at the same time. It was awkward, useless . . . and abundantly clear why we had left it behind as a species.

[completely unsure how to weave these sections together]


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