chattererbeast

You never made me. I wanted to. You spoke and I was there. Everything spun. I remember your dimly lit room. There was breath drawn there. Exhalations over the other's skin. It was dark out. There was fear, but I wanted you more than anything. Our lips touched and touched again. I hope they never stop. We're built into the earth. They'll find us in the grain of wood and in the stone worn away by the water. The leaves tell stories about us.

We traveled, didn't we? You told me about it on several occasions. We saw hills. You always wanted to see hills. I enjoyed more than the hills. Did I? Did I tell you, you taste like a memory? Bitter sweet. I prefer the bitter. I remember how your legs were. They moved a lot. Moved over mine. They're good legs. And your hands. They touched everything, didn't they? We saw oceans. Lapping in everything they could. We sank together. Do you remember the sky just before it went away? Neither do I.

Iridescent love. I found you in a teapot. You were broken, had one arm. and no lips. You showed me how things once were and how things are now. Iridescent bed. We spent hours here. I understood how things once were and how they are now. I like them better now. Iridescent escape. You showed me out through your spout. I thought of what the denotations could be and forgot them. I didn't care what you were. I don't care what you are. Iridescent loneliness. Let me come back. I can fix you. It's alright now. Let me come back to where everything shines. You shine. in so many colors. You confuse me. Can't you see. That's why I want you?

Did I ever tell you about the old house? Every day? I suppose so. It kinda looked like the one in this magazine, but a lot bigger. I had such a wonderful life in that house. Nothing could touch me. It's not like how things are now. People can't go outside any more without having something to fear. I used to frolic among the blueberries and live a new adventure every day. I was a space captain on a planet of dinosaurs one day and a king of apes another. I had nothing to play with but my imagination and I was perfectly happy. And when I came home covered in sweat and mud, the maid was there to save me from a swatting. I loved her very much. She

He lay sleeping with coins over his eyes. I put him in a shallow grave; the hole in his head was of my own making. I knew my dirty little secret wouldn't stay covered up though. The next day he was standing at my bedside. Needless to say, I was startled, but my wife, who is usually a lighter sleeper than I am, didn't wake up. I wasn't going to wake her. He had to remain my secret. When my eyes adjusted, I noticed his eyes were still covered with the coins and he was still pale, with the bullet hole still in his head. I didn't really find this strange. I was so tired logic hadn't kicked in yet. I got up and guided him outside the room. He was

       I love the TV. He tells me things, things to save me. He told me not to take the bus today because I was going to be stabbed. Some poor guy didn't have a TV like mine. He was found in the back of the bus with 5 stab wounds on his body. Police are questioning the bus driver. TV tells me not to trust the bus driver. He tells me the bus driver is in on it. The bus driver gets a cut of whatever money is taken off somebody. The TV keeps me safe and talks the fear out of me. I don't worry about the terrorists. The TV will tell me if the terrorists come after me. The TV says I shouldn't be afraid of people like terrorists, people that are f

Pie was poisoned. Still love her.

The apple hates me. It's shriveled face glares at me night and day. I don't understand why it would hate me so much. I just thought it was too sour. I don't like the sour things. Why do the sour things have to exist? Why does this apple hate me so much? Even the worm crawling around in its hollowed-out skull hates me. Why won't it go away? I tried to throw it away several times. Its face grew more hateful each time. I don't know what it wants from me. Go away you damned thing. I can't even throw it away anymore. I keep as much distance from it as possible. Why can't I find peace? What makes this fruit so terrifying? Don't answer that. It's t

The pumpkin lies rotting, forgotten for this Halloween. Can a squash have feelings? I like to think this one can, then again I'm strange that way. I like to think the sigh running through its collapsed carcass doesn't belong to the wind, but to the pumpkin. Maybe I should take it home, nurture it to health. No. No, that can't be. It's gone. The life has left it and I am just a strange young man, standing here, contemplating the incredibly sad, incredibly imaginary life of a depressed pumpkin. I try to imagine what it would be like to be a depressed pumpkin, not having the option to kill myself. I try to think of what it might be like to watc