Idioglossia

Bendable metal
the color of grass

twisted into whatever I like or dislike.
It could be
a man,
the sun,
my hand,
nothing at all.

I think it's impractical, why is it there?
Waste of materials, precious materials.
The cluttered globe has trouble breathing.
It hears me say this

and evolves into a fiend
preparing to dive into my hair
and mold my brain into a guide on how to be
(what everyone expects of you).
I want to scream

but

I-know-it-wants-me-to-so-I-don't.

I twist it into a wand and cast a spell on the world
because oh, how I hate the world.

Thomas Brimm Meets Creaky

Thomas woke to a sudden, urgent knocking on the top of the casket. He rubbed the sleep from his face on Dado's suit jacket and let out a huge yawn. How long had he been asleep? The knocking grew louder and quicker. Thomas banged both fists on the coffin roof in response.

"What do you want?" he shouted.

After a muffled answer was heard, the casket lid slowly opened. A man the color of sour milk poked his head inside the wooden box, his terrifying, wide eyes fixed on Thomas's face. A chunk of the man's forehead was missing and some of his brain hung down to his eyebrows, almost the consistency of Jell-O that had been sitting out all night. Thomas stared at the man for a long time, resisting the urge to poke his brain.

Stomach, Growling

And as I sat there eating pretzel rods, I realized I was eating my fingers instead.






I guess I was really hungry after all.

08/28/08

Love you until black holes fill up.

Leave a Message After the Beep

Hi, it’s me again. You’ve been gone for a long time now and the stars are still the same. I’m looking at them, sprawled out on my driveway. I don’t know where you are and it scares me. Last time we talked, you were heading west in a car that wasn’t yours, yelling over the background noise that everything would be OK. I didn’t really believe you, and still don’t. The track marks on your arms never faded, and somehow I knew they wouldn’t, but hoped anyway. God, it’s freezing out here. I’ll never get used to nights in the desert. Where are you? Just tell me. I’m going insane. Googling someone’s name over and over can only accomplish so much. I thought I’d be the only person you’d trust, the only one to know where you are. Guess I was wrong. I keep waiting for your face to be framed in my windowpane unexpectedly, like it used to be. Isn’t that stupid? It’s been four years. I know I should let go, but I can’t. The uncertainty of you being alive or dead keeps me hanging on. I just want to know. Please, anything. Any little thing will do. Just enough for me to move on and know you’re all right. OK, well, goodbye.

Thomas Brimm Has the Giggles

Thomas Brimm stood on his tippy toes, peering into the long box that held his grandfather. Was that really his grandfather though? Sure, the ribbon that hung next to him read "Dado," but all of his wrinkles were gone. The wrinkles from his laughter, his anger, his compassion--gone. The makeup coating Dado's face appeared yellowish in the soul-piercing fluorescent lighting. Thomas felt himself stifling fits of giggles; his grandfather would have never worn blush!

Ephipaneasy

My mind shot
out ofthe top of
my skull.

Flakes shimmied down
dusting heads all around.

Synchronous/chorus...
"A-HA!"