It began with umbrage.  Not an offense, but the word.  At first, Tomasz was empowered by it.  He used it in conversations, taking umbrage at events and actions.  It soon lost its lustre, becoming worn and commonplace.  He learned other gateway words to take its place.

His appetite for them became insatiable, an all consuming lexiphilia.  Each one he discovered would burn like fire in his consciousness before plunging him once more into darkness.  Soon he was beyond any sustenance the Collins dictionary could provide.

Tomasz lost interest in his appearance, his beard grew ragged, his teeth stained: his wellbeing robbed by the need to devour new vocabulary.  He lost his job, his relationships, his apartment.

He found himself in alleys behind linguistics departments, doing unspeakable things for new words; wiping his mouth with one hand while shoving a torn scrap of paper into his pocket with the other.  Lappet, fewtrils and (he was to learn, with irony) krukolibidinous were all bought with the last shreds of his dignity.

Here he now lies: pissing away his last in a derelict building, his library of books and crumpled paper nidatory around him.  He is wracked with lethelogica, a palsied hand hunting through the papers around him.  He finds what he seeks, reading with a final breath, “Thanatos.”  The exequies are undertaken by vermin.


~ by Electro-mechanical Man on March 28, 2011.

One Response to “Tomasz”

  1. I can empathize with Tomasz.

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