Nothing Is Anything Without You

"How long do you think it'll be?"
"Oh, it'll be a long time, 'till it dries up--the sea."
"Who will it be? You and me?"
"I'm planning on forever. We'll just wait and see."
"Well, I'll always love you. Total honesty."
"I know, I know. You're my insanity plea."

I Could

Everyday,
I sit at the bus stop for an hour.
I never go anywhere, don't really want to.
I just like knowing that if I did want to,
I could. For that hour, I could.
I could go anywhere.

Thomas Brimm Is Nauseous

Thomas leaned over the side of the casket, gazing down into the large pit Creaky had pointed to. A conveyor belt filled with all types of coffins circled around the edges of the hole, spiraling into the depths below. He blinked and shook his head to ward off the dizziness, then looked around his and Dado’s casket. They were on the edge of the pit, surrounded by disheveled wooden boxes, some filled with humans, some not. It was as if each had been dropped haphazardly from the infinite space above, one piling on top of the other. There seemed to be a giant lump of coal in Thomas’s stomach. He couldn’t tell if he was scared or excited, but he was definitely nauseous.

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.