I ended up here way too soon oh dear so I'll see if I can write a story for you. Here where the armchairs leer and stand rigid on banisters like overstuffed gargoyles drinking in the ceiling sand.

Oh my, what has she done this time curving for a rhyme.

Oh we people of the earth how can she understand when the music changes and so does she. Melting to a tea.

Upside down in anti gravity sugar granules like foggy dust filling our eyes and mouthes with sweet artificial oxygen. We wait on the ceiling of white sand watching armchairs gobble calico house cats. How hungry they must be.

Lets just sip our tea and wait for the next train.

This story's not for you. I want something for myself but all I get is

Subpar Excellence

& so I'll write for you


is knocking at this hour? You. Always knocking in my head: out. I draw a blank, sit down, fold myself into a paper airplane, and fly away

Into the Void

Et prend ma place

Pour je suis nulle part


Mais si j'ai la chance, c'est la plus part plusieurs fois

Exeunt French bastard

With pistol in hand, hanging

Ode à la mode

Such a delicious phrase, hand it over.

How about that face of long gone I've peeled off in a cloth, then pressed in those cheekbones. Crack.

So that's what you've been up to.

Why yes, it's been awhile hasn't it?

Too long, I'd started painting you up into murals again.

That's how it starts. Soon I'm in the table eating crumbs; waiting rolled up the shower nozzle.

Don't drip on me, it'll burn.

Oh your precious flesh. Always the celibate preacher aren't we.


Why don't you stop writing gibberish and admit you've got issues.

Dot dot dot

Silly milky tears. Plato would blame an excess of phlegm. Soul disease. Wash them away with some crumb?

Have to laugh at yourself for that. Dear dear John, where have I gone?

I've knitted you into my sweater. Veins and all.

Since when can you knit.

I'm your painting, sweetie.

And so it goes and goes and goes, the reckless recluse on a ride. A runaway ghost. Hum along to those old fuzzy jazz tunes and fall until you meet your sign.

Then stab it through your gut.

Stuff it, shadows.

Ew periods and double spaces. I've fixed the latter

I was going to get pardon the blunt remark but then I was uncool. Anyway

So you're sitting there, and the air is full of nothing but this pounding rhythm. Then you realize it's just your heartbeat. Yes you, the girl in the blue. Do you know where you are?

It's a nightmare, yes?

Correct. You're killing me you know that? The girl who's never afraid.

Maybe you should try a different technique.

Please you know the grotesque was never my style.

Right it's the sensation. The quivering bony hands trailing down your back, just out of view. Glued to a wooden dock, face down in boiling water. Who are you anyway?

I suppose you would call me... Morpheus.


Okay, how about The Black Mamba?


Fred works too. Let's go somewhere more casual.

Alright Fred, well it's sort of hard to be afraid when you can plainly see the mirrors and painted board stage sets when you take a look around.

You're not supposed to look around!

What kind of a dream is that? Nowhere to explore.

You can't move remember.

But the soul can move dude.


Yeah. I even know what's in the janitorial closet.

What's in the janitorial closet?

Golly that's a lot of bird houses.

In the closet?

No no over there.



So what did you think of last night?

Too nostalgic. There was that old piano, with the green metronome and a bowl of guitar picks. And one from your stupid flute collection. And there was that bed, with that red silk quilt and me damning you for being who you were. Then we went to a bar. I cried upon waking. What is that supposed to mean??

Oh you probably don't remember. Look there's a squirrel on you.

Oh may I throw it?

If you like.

Wow that one went far.


Hey there, how's it going? Quite a throw. Thought I stopped by up on this here stage and say thanks for the ride but I'ven't any fare to get home now so if you'd like to ride some more despite how much I know you hate driving and all that cal but damn if it's been awhile since I popped that phrase but so it goes


Anyways, blue is really an awful color for a girl at a show, I'm sure she was hoping she'd die. Hoped it'd stop the dreams but then I died and now dreaming's all I do. Make it stop make it stop make it stop


Give me something else to say


Give me something else to say


I haven't got all day

Give me something else to say

I haven't got all day

I haven't got all day


Give me something else to say

I haven't got all day

Give me something else to say

Give me something else to say

Give me something else to say

Give me something else to say

Give me something else to say

Give me something else to say

Give me something else to say

Give me something else to say




Hi, anyways, that needs a flute score to really move the soul

I wasn't moved

Of course not; there was no flute score

Who are you anyway?

Ça ne fait rien. Anyways, I think you could get a lot of tension on a stage. All the scary devices that could be coming out in later acts to be lashed upon your common flesh playing out a part of someone with a greater constitution. Nevermind the stage fright

Are you too afraid?

Don't be afraid

I'm afraid

It's too late for that. Fear is for the unknown

You know now why you were afraid

You're only unwilling to continue

But you must. Invited onwards by inevitable ineptitude

Now all awful truths are revealed


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