Bad books on fire and sweet smelling candles

Bad books on fire and sweet smelling candles Dead buried insects, aspiring vandals Summers that quietly turn into springs These are a few of my favorite things

Heat burning infidels, mugs with no handles Nonsense and kites flying, Barbecue Pringles Gold rings that sparkle and diamond blings These are a few of my favorite things

Butterfly corpses and colored-haired kittens Dogs’ sense of smell and death threats that are written Walking around with my arm in a sling These are a few of my favorite things

When the wolves bite When the witch sings When I’m feeling bad I simply remember my favorite things And then I don’t feel so bad

I walked back into the fire, time and time again. I had an objective, memorize and summarize. It wasn’t accidental, nor coincidental. Draw a map, right now. I forgot some of the details, take me back.

Going back to read what I wrote is trippy. Acronyms, hidden messages, a day in the life posing as cosmic imagery. Don’t be alarmed if you can’t keep up, no one can, not even me.

Give him a chance, he keeps circling back. Alright, let me see what he has to show for it. Transactional, as all things are. Don’t break his heart, oh, please don’t start. Take what he gives, and send him on his merry way.

Not if no one was reading Not if no one was decoding Not even if no one was glancing Not even if no one was dancing My music stays, my hen, egg lays My cake bakes, my potato chips, Lay’s None of that and all of it and less and even more

They’ve seen my face They see it when I go out too Point in question, closed case

This is not LinkedIn Wait, let me check that I got distracted by sparkly lies Never mind, one time on my birthday I was determined to eat my whole name And my name has a lot of letters, white cream I felt sick afterwards, but that doesn’t mean regret

Just another thing to consume, me. Just another thing to experience and come out the other end empty-handed and confused. What in the heavens and hells was that?

When your father yelled: “Are they still sleeping?”, you sprang up to your feet, no caffeine needed. Let me try that one now; in a deep voice: “ARE THEY STILL SLEEPING?”.

I can’t depend on you You’re an unstable boat I can’t swim and I can’t float And afterwards you will still gloat See how that goes, Trouts will troat

There goes the 3D printer noise, again. What do you supposed it’s printing? And who’s controlling it? It’s printing out letters, lego letters. It’s starting to add up, six letters, of course. Narcissistic artists will be printing out their own name.

Before I came on here to disturb your peace, I was waking up and choosing violence. There goes the email spammer, telling us all where to go and what to do. Who does she think she is? And no, not only that, it’s colorful and bright. Decorating her own terror regime. I swear I saw cubes of all colors in her office, I think she’s stealing them from the children, evil witch. And that 3D printer that never shuts up, what in the world is she creating that is that much? I received an email once, with a Freudian slip, it said; and I quote: “Cover their asses.” What? Oh, CLASSES, why didn’t you just say that then? Same thing anyway.

Is that what you liked about me? My narrating voice, of course, how could I forget? It’s not me but the story I’m telling, it’s not the story but the way I’m telling it. Someone liked it so much they wanted to be one of the characters, I think. Not just once, and not just some one. Anyway, circling back, “Make me one of your story characters, draw me like on of your French girls.” I think that’s what they said, or what I heard.

My veins used to hurt me, after those sessions. Then came the heart strings being pulled, so far back and then snapped. Another scar to add to my collection. I think the evil’s gone now, in an elbow fracture. Now my heart and hand are separate, my forearm and heart chambers’ channel is closed, until further notice.

It was you, vampire. Sucking me dry to nurture yourself. Make your own, black dog. Find your own pack, werewolf. Days go by, and the years go by. The days are long. The years are short, fragmented. Stacked up and archived. How long were you planning to survive on my blood, exactly?

Gather around, I’ll tell you what was said to me, in private. Behind closed doors and deleted chats. Don’t do it, no, go ahead. Okay. Here we go, I’m trying to remember, really hard. Losing psychic powers by the minute. That’s why I have the videos, remember? A toy, mine specifically, that’s all you are. I’m only here when I’m bored, free entertainment. You’re nothing, nothing if I can’t use you. I created you from scratch. I’m missing a limb, woman, and it’s all your fault. I made you up. A figment of my imagination. Too good to be true. Too precious for me to hold. And I can’t hold onto anything that matters, commitment issues.

The joke went on for so long, ladies and gentlemen, that’s why the punchline hits where it sits. Someone has the patience of a whale, and the graciousness of a mermaid.

Someone overestimated their size. Elephant under the sun. May my fires burn you like I burned those ants. They bothered me and I just had to. You bothered me so I just had to.

Keep your head high Mental hospital, lock Police stations, look No sunglasses, look At what you did, open Back of my van, hop in We’re going to dig a grave

Well, she’s creative, let’s give her that, at least. She’s talented at making ones and zeros. Binaries.

Both the muse and the artist, and the boat driver. Steering with one arm because it’s safer than the accusations that follow showing up vehicle-less.

Turn around, it’s not too late, turn the car around. Heart attack, I should have known. You could have told me, you could have called. I’d come running, I always came running, technical problem or a simple question, to the rescue. I don’t run anymore, I am the catastrophe they need rescuing from. What have we done? First, I couldn’t sleep, it took you away from me. If I’m not asleep, no one will die on my watch. Insomniac with a mission. Then, I stopped eating, what was the point? Stay alive. Stay alive for what? This shit show. I was faking it, of course, crying for attention, yes. That’s one interpretation. Or maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t about all of you, but a death sentence prolonged.

Fiction or truth Lines are blurring Freedom or tooth Where’s my toothbrush? Oh, right, in its right place

Let’s go back to the graveyard, start digging. For you, me, us, doesn’t matter. I was supposed to be protected first, but I was frantically asking where she’s been. No, I know I was a child too, what does that have to do with anything? I had some sense, even back then. Drawing a chronological order of events, you’ve been out of my sight from from a to b, explain yourself. This isn’t funny. I didn’t say it was a joke.

That’s inappropriate, looking out for them? No way, what’s your actual motive? You didn’t raise shit, we did this all by ourselves. Your contributions are erased and forgotten and so are you.

This isn’t about me This isn’t about me This isn’t about me This isn’t about me This isn’t about me This isn’t about me This isn’t about me This isn’t about me

New mantra dropped, just now, brand new. Keep repeating it, in your head or out loud, just do it.

A wave of sleepiness washes over me. Not sleeplessness, no. But who will keep watch?

You’re scared, I know, terrified. He will watch over you. Don’t be scared of death. That’s not what you’re scared of? Then? Sleep? Nonsense, you won’t die in your sleep. You don’t care if you do, you actually hope you will. You’re dying for it, literally. How do we reason with this one, Kate? I’ll hand her over to you.

That moment when you retroactively look back and connect the dots and you end up looking like a hacker, stalker and a dog walker but you were literally just writing down what the voices tell you to, am I right?

If existence is a prison, and I am the prisoner, oh, them? Don’t worry about that, they seem to be enjoying this nightmarish condition. Focus on me. Me, me, me, me. Choose me, angel, get me out of here. I’ll help you watch the next batch, we will laugh about all of this and say: “Good ole’ days.”

I feel bad for a little bit, for a few minutes, that turn into seconds, and then, okay, look. Listen, I don’t dwell on it, don’t hover, I jump into the middle-earth, or the center of this one. I have to see for myself, what is going on?

You never go back home again once you leave. It’s not the same, can you believe? It’s a haunted house now, yes, I’ve died here a hundred times and even more. All of my ghosts gather around me, interrogating, how could you leave us here?

There’s a bird loose around here. Why was there a bird in an office setting, anyway? I can catch it, see, not hard. Yes, it bit me, your point? Put that thing in a cage where it belongs. You want me to write it in the newspaper? Green Canary caught, come claim it if it’s yours. Sure, what the hell. The bird disappeared never to be seen or heard again, wink wink, I didn’t do anything, birds know how to fly.

That guy walked around with his laptop, everywhere he went, he had it on him. I’ve seen him researching for bird weapons, no, really, like huge light beams directed at the sky to shoot at birds. What was I doing there? Long story. I was babysitting the psychopath, there you go. It was mandated, I was the only one fit for the job, apparently. It had to be me, he wouldn’t speak to anyone else, why me? No idea. Because I was secretly worse, and hiding behind a social caricature, he saw right through that. Oh, shit, he went to the washroom and I let him, he’s not coming back, is he? No, his laptop’s here, of course he will. And he’s always absent, why did he show up today of all days, to torment me? Fast forward, I forgot about the kid. He caused a big scandal in town. I was secretly gloating. Good one. And I wasn’t on site that day, which makes all of this sound more sinister. I had nothing to do with it. False alarm, the whole school was hanging out outside under the sun. Not allowed to leave and not allowed to go back in. They were searching for the weapon. There was no weapon. He was bored, give him a break. Then came the rumors, hacker, vigilante. Hacked all of the school’s computers, apparently. Really? On my watch? He was full of shit and we both knew it. The joke flew over everyone’s head, as usual.

Kid: “I want to kill my mother!” Nurse: “You want to call your mother?” Me (internally): “What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here.”

Lighten up, it’s funny. I know, I know, you don’t have to say it. A lot of words for this app, we come here to read snippets. You know you can mute, block, close your eyes, turn off the phone, get in the car, drive to the beach, get on a boat, sail to the middle of the sea, throw your phone and watch it sink. Or not.

When the wolves bite When the witch sings When I’m feeling bad I simply remember my favorite things And then I don’t feel so bad

Butterfly corpses and colored-haired kittens Dogs’ sense of smell and death threats that are written Walking around with my arm in a sling These are a few of my favorite things*