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i’ve been cultivating unkindness. i’ve been cultivating a lot of things — i’m a fertile field, it turns out — but unkindness is the most interesting.

it is unkind of me to try and play a trick on you.

i can hear everything, warped and distorted but broadcast somehow.

i can’t dig you out; i can’t reach my fingers deep enough inside my own brain, inside my own ribcage.

without you, divorced from even the idea of you, i have no substance, no form.

you are the antithesis that gives me definition.

another tragic love story, who needs that?

tragedy is the point.

do you think you have a monopoly on anger?

i’m not really anything like a person.

i love you and love you and love you, just as i am gone and gone and gone.

i can’t imagine a version of myself that would not love you.

i dream of you. sometimes in my dreams you are singing. sometimes you’re raging at me.

don’t leave me.

i killed someone. i killed someone.

i’ll set myself on fire to give you light.

i don’t want you to be lost. i don’t want you to be stuck. i just want you to be free, and joyous, and buoyant.

i woke up needing you, you artery ripped loose from me, all bloody and twining.

time rattles on its hinges.

i’ve come to barter.

do you think i’m as fickle as a human?

are those matches? what do you think you’re doing?

i do not have time for this. you can be angry at me later, you can scream and rage at me when you’re not in danger anymore.

am i the martyr or are you?

there are other ways to get me to shut up, you know.

i believe you. i always believe you.

you’re always so right. it must be such a burden.

i must hate you, is that it? that’s why i did all this, because i want you gone.

i am with you because i want to be. that’s all.

i will love you like a fire loves a forest.

time has made liars and cheats of us all.

i will make a bullet of my mouth. i will make a knife of my heart.

❛ Sometimes human places create inhuman monsters. ❜

❛ I’m not gonna hurt ya. I’m just going to bash your brains in. ❜

❛ Monsters are real. Ghosts are too. They live inside of us, and sometimes, they win. ❜

❛ The world’s a hard place. It doesn’t care. It doesn’t hate you and me, but it doesn’t love us, either. ❜

❛ The tears that heal are also the tears that scald and scourge. ❜

❛ Pull your act together and just go on. ❜

❛ I had never dreamed there could be so much pain in a life when there is nothing physically wrong. I hurt all the time. ❜

❛ Tough old world, baby. If you’re not bolted together tightly, you’re gonna shake, rattle, and roll before you turn thirty. ❜

❛ Are you sure self-pity is a luxury you can afford? ❜

❛ Truth comes out. In the end it always comes out. ❜

❛ Living by your wits is always knowing where the wasps are. ❜

❛ No matter where you go, the same asshole gets off the plane. ❜

❛ We sometimes need to create unreal monsters and bogies to stand in for all the things we fear in our real lives. ❜

❛ That’s your job in this hard world, to keep your love alive and see that you get on, no matter what. ❜

❛ Human nature, baby. Grab it and growl. ❜

❛ God wiped snot out of his nose and that was you. ❜

❛ Run away. Quick. And remember how much I love you. ❜

❛ How many times, over how many years, have I—a grown adult—asked for the mercy of another chance? ❜

❛ I was suddenly so sick of myself, so revolted. ❜

❛ You listen to me. I’m going to talk to you about it this once and never again this same way. ❜

❛ But those pieces, they’ll never fit just the same way again. Never in this world. ❜

❛ Dying is a part of living. You have to keep tuning in to that if you expect to be a whole person. ❜

❛ Officious little prick. ❜

❛ I’ve been sleepwalking again, my dear. — The plants are moving under the rug. ❜

❛ How I wish you were fear. ❜

❛ But it was a dreadful kind of curiosity, the kind that makes you peek through your fingers during the scariest parts of a scary movie. ❜

❛ All we have is time, you know. An eternity of time. Or shall we end it? Might as well. After all, we’re missing the party. ❜

❛ We all remember our pleasant dreams more clearly than the scary ones. ❜

❛ The way things should be and the way things are hardly ever get together. ❜

if not, how come there’s that cold place on the couch between your mother and father? if not, how come no one ever says anything at the supper table anymore? now it’s just knives and forks rattling until you can’t take it anymore and ask if you can be eh-eh-eh-excused, please. it was as if he were the ghost, a presence that spoke and moved but was not quite heard or seen, a thing vaguely sensed but still not accepted as real.

         among  the  pits  and  welts  of  the  muddied  pathway,     there’s  a  heavy  stench.     an  unsteady  wayward  -  slope  towards  abandoned  lakefront,    one  could  easily  lose  their  way  if  they  didn’t  follow  the  trail.     she  stands  with  lone  flashlight,    weathered  leaves  entangled  to  onyx  -  mane,     a  tremble  works  from  her  very  depths  and  her  fingers  tighten  ‘round  beacon.      [     you  shouldn’t  be  here,     you  should  turn  back  now     —     ]      ghoul  -  whispers  croon  in  ears,   her  sneakers  befoul  ‘pon  sullied  graves  that  have  been  long  forgotten  with  time.

          each  step  weighs  like  a  stone,     faint  but  loaded  all  the  same,      as  she  grows  closer  to  desired  point.      abra’s  eyelashes  are  a  moth  wing’s  flutter  unto  cheeks,     desperate  blinking  to  keep  tearducts  at  bay  as  the  smell  grows,     of  blighted  decay  and   —    she  can  almost  see  the  scene  before  her  as  clear  as  day    :    another  gifted  soul  who  shined  brighter  than  others  taken  before  their  time.     even  in  death  their  presence  is  still  there  in  the  soil,    in  the  deadened  grass,     an  invisible  array  of   clues  that  haven’t  been  touched  upon  just  yet.

[      there’s  no  body.      find  the  body.     keep  looking.     ]

because   she   was   in   danger.        it   was   the   only   answer,        the   only   thing   that   made   sense.        she   was   in   danger   and   she   had   shut    him   out,        the   connection   between   them   severed .        (         but   not    completely         ––––         oh   no,       why   else   would   he   be   trekking   through   these   woods?         nose   full   of   the   scent   of   decay        .      .      .        the      scent      of       rot .          )        she’s   ahead,       somewhere   down   this   trail.        somewhere   ahead.        it’s   that   thought   above   anything   else   that   keeps   him   going.

and   there   she   is,        flashlight   in   hand,        and   that   scent   from   before   is   almost   overwhelming,        clawing   at   his   throat.       something       bad       happened       here    .      something      –––

all   of   the   sudden   the   flashlight   is   turned   on   him,        almost   blinding,        and   he   is   a   boy   turned   deer   in   the   headlights.        a   child   caught   somewhere   he   is   not   meant   to   be.        but   only   for   a   moment.        muscles   tense,        chin   raising.        not   a   deer   in   the   headlights,    but   a   boy   preparing   to   fight   without   any   fight   to   be   had.        stubbornness   in   every   line   of   his   stance.        big   bill    prevailing     .      .      .            ❝          yy - you    sh - shut    me    o - out.         ❞