a website which whispers to you. it sidles close in your later evenings with the computer, murmuring streams of words that are angular and dislocated — twisted, wrongly-begotten sentences that churn your stomach and make you think of how it might feel to swallow without chewing. it is mere novelty, you think, shivering the whispers off like a brisk wind. but as the days, distended and indolent, crawl on their belly into months, the sentences reorder themselves, and the whispering whines deeper into your thoughts. you find the website’s words stewing in your stomach acid, or lodged behind your molars. it’s as though you can actually feel the website spreading its many-jointed fingers, lasciviously, between the tortuous folds of your brain.
not a day passes that you do not visit the website, and the whispering that began as mere passing annoyance becomes obsession. you find yourself scooping up the website’s words in desperate fervor, shoveling handfuls into your mouth. you’re so preoccupied with what the website that has to say, you barely notice as your friends drift from you like low tides, as your room becomes fetid and mephitic, as your body rots and curves; lone ancient basswood, leafless in the marsh. this cormorant devouring of broken, backwards phrases and paragraphs, of stowing them in every spare corner of your mind, serves as such a perfect distraction that you hardly realize that as you begin to find more and more meaning in the words of the website, the world is no longer able to find meaning in your own.