You play the fiddle and I listen to your tune unquestioningly. Am I seeing the writing on the wall right or through a twisted kaleidoscope of insurrection? You friendly voice stabs my sternum and makes me feel sick like too much candy on a warm day.
I’m clutching straws and watching them break and fall like spaghetti leaning on boiling water. There’s my fuse limp and boiling in unfound words. My itching skin quakes. My heart withers inside as I bleed out on the floor.
I am livid for I perceive you are not as you seem yet you hold the upper hand. Your words tick and tock like a time bomb waiting as you inwardly gloat, “I’ve got a live one. Watch them squirm”.
They started out all friendly and speaking of how they like to touch base with their customers. It’s weird how a phone call can start one way and finish another. Along the way was the realisation that they were more like a smiling assassin.