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Eat'em: Chapter 3Chapter 3
“Of course, I didn’t think any of it was real either,” I’m trapped in a box with Mike. My pudgy lawyer stares at me as I confess the existence of Eat’em like a grown man with an imaginary friend I never grew out of. “I didn’t want to. I’d rather have been going through some schizophrenic phase than have accidentally adopted a foot-tall talking crimson porcupine-spider monkey thing only I could see and hear. From what I’m reading in prison, serial killers are often bed-wetters when they’re a kid. That doesn’t sound so bad in comparison.
“I get that it’s hard to imagine how someone thrust into abnormal circumstances could simultaneously have a normal upbringing. But it’s not that I didn’t have more than my share of strange experiences. Not everyone’s life can be humdrum boring, but that doesn’t mean I’m automatically a psychopath. It’s not like I chose to hav
STOPI've come to a stop
this octagonal sign
it controls me
and I'm halted
for a moment there's nowhere to go.
Been down this road before
I know where it leads
I know where it goes
I know where it takes me
but for now
While the world still spins
460 meters a second
so time flies
The further away from me you are
the more still I appear
yet the faster I'm actually going
For I spin at a stop
at 1,000 miles per hour
and as I stand
67 times that speed
and I weave through galaxies
at even seven times the rate I fly
To my left
To my right
these roads span as if they are infinite
I feel like they lead nowhere
as they always take me to the same place
Is it ever truly the same?
I know that when I'm pulled over
for not stopping
and I tell the officer
"you had to travel 490,000 miles per hour
to catch me
If you didn't,
you'd be floating in space!"
He stares at me wide-eyed
but it's true
He bases my speed relative to the sign
that lying sign
L.A. Fisher - Torches and PitchforksChapter 4.
The large black nurse with the enormous tits called my name from her little clipboard. She looked younger than she probably was, with that timeless skin that darker people are often times blessed with. Her clothes weren’t low cut, but her cleavage didn’t seem to care and shot out of her shirt anyway.
“Hey there, Sugar!” Those eyes had not once shuttered at my appearance. As much as I hated this place, I was ever so thankful for those eyes. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in here. How’ve you been, baby?”
My smile was genuine. I wiped the bloody drool from my chin and followed her through the hospital.
No matter how long the line in the waiting room, there is another fifteen-minute wait on top of that which is standard in every hospital from Arkansas to California. I’ve spent more than ten hours total in this little ro
Double EntendreLove is just a game to you
I am just game to you.
Your voice a double entendre
You say what you say
And something else.
I feel hunted
on the animal preserve,
The home I once felt comfortable in
It has become a free for all
You with your rifle
Me with my reflex.
I do not act based on calculation
rather I react on instinct
I move quickly.
Any moment you can fire
Any moment you can take me home
I have to be quick-witted
Or else you'll take advantage
of my mortality
I'm the stag already captured
I make a mess of the living room while
Your stag is at home
but you hunt anyway
You've done this before
said that before
worn that before
But now it drapes over you in a way
it has never draped over you before
This very moment.
Strip it away!
Figure that I've seen
so many times before
Everything about you is different.
Not today though...
The Dance: Ram thaiรำไทย
the purloiner of my diffidence,
has stripped my insecurities
and taught me to dance with all
Children bounce around at my feet
as I twirl my love
on the dance floor
I'm not in shape
My hips have never moved like this,
My feet step to a beat they've not yet
pant with the rhythm they've longed for.
And my knees keep banging into yours.
Your body is perfect
Your moves are precise
No woman will ever come close to you
I contend with every man in the room
yet you have chosen me
for this dance.
Your self-confidence fills me with life
I'm the only ginger in the room
I trust you.
And I prove it by standing in the forefront
Revealing my identity
Just as you promised
they dance alongside me.
I have come to understand that nobody
really expects anything of me.
I could sit in the corner and be the
one left out
or I could get up and join the fray every
once and a while.
Doorframe without a DoorI stand in the doorless doorway,
Where your life used to be.
I stare across your empty room,
Where all that's left is me.
And I know it goes against a lot of things you have said
But something deep inside of me just wants that bastard dead
For everything he did to you and taking you from me.
I can't let it be... I can't let it be...
I hear about you less and less,
And all I want is more.
I stand here with a pain in my chest,
In a frame without a door.
I never said what I wanted. I never said goodbye
I want you back so damn bad. "Move on," they say, "just try."
Everyone slowly turns away, I don't know why they can't see
I can't let it be... I can't let it be...
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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