I left everything behind.
I shouted, screamed but there was never any answer.
Did they leave me here?
I don't know what day it is.
Sometimes I see lights, I never find the houses.
I'm backwards, forwards.
Right now the only things to keep me company are the wolves.
But they're getting hungry.
TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, LET ME RAVAGE YOUR BODY, I DON'T NEED DRUGS WHEN YOUR LIPS ARE LIKE POPPIES. DROWNING IN SHEETS IS MY NEW FAVORITE HOBBY. USE UP YOUR BREATH, TELL ME HOW BAD YOU WANT ME.
I found a haven.
It's dirty but I have a collection of a week's worth of soil on my skin.
Your pages are too soft.
I couldn't squeeze all of the blood out.
In seven years, will I still be able to read these words?
Or will they smudge, and the pages warp?
You were a necessary sacrifice to maintain a peaceful silence.
She talked too much.
TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, LET ME RAVAGE YOUR BODY, I DON'T NEED DRUGS WHEN YOUR LIPS ARE LIKE POPPIES. DROWNING IN SHEETS IS MY NEW FAVORITE HOBBY. USE UP YOUR BREATH, TELL ME HOW BAD YOU WANT ME.
A girl came crying.
Abandoned. Alone.
"Mommy," over and over and over.
I still have a phone. Not my original.
I called the police, but they never came.
Abandoned twice.
I don't like children.
TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, LET ME RAVAGE YOUR BODY, I DON'T NEED DRUGS WHEN YOUR LIPS ARE LIKE POPPIES. DROWNING IN SHEETS IS MY NEW FAVORITE HOBBY. USE UP YOUR BREATH, TELL ME HOW BAD YOU WANT ME.
No.
Not Ramona. That's not my name.
Name. Names. Named.
New place, new name.
P. Haven't done P.
Pilgrim. Penny. Phillipa. Phineas. Polly. Patty. P. I. I. I.
Pi. Pi. P.
Piper. No.
Pyper.
Yes.
TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, LET ME RAVAGE YOUR BODY, I DON'T NEED DRUGS WHEN YOUR LIPS ARE LIKE POPPIES. DROWNING IN SHEETS IS MY NEW FAVORITE HOBBY. USE UP YOUR BREATH, TELL ME HOW BAD YOU WANT ME.
Eduard Einstein,
Lionel Aldridge,
Peter Green. Yellow. Orange. Pink. Blue. Red,
Syd Barrett,
Mary Todd Lincoln,
John Forbes Nash Jr.
We have beautiful minds.
TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, LET ME RAVAGE YOUR BODY, I DON'T NEED DRUGS WHEN YOUR LIPS ARE LIKE POPPIES. DROWNING IN SHEETS IS MY NEW FAVORITE HOBBY. USE UP YOUR BREATH, TELL ME HOW BAD YOU WANT ME.
Bugs
Crawling
Eating
Breeding
Excreting
Putrid
Vile
Repulsive
I've got you under my skin.
TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, LET ME RAVAGE YOUR BODY, I DON'T NEED DRUGS WHEN YOUR LIPS ARE LIKE POPPIES. DROWNING IN SHEETS IS MY NEW FAVORITE HOBBY. USE UP YOUR BREATH, TELL ME HOW BAD YOU WANT ME.
There was death.
He had a gentle touch,
A burning halo; and I, giving him a torpid look.
I was ready.
When did that face morph into a deceivingly angelic visage?
Red hair. Pale. Sharp pains.
Then there was nothing.
Who ever knew the Devil looked so alluring?
TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, LET ME RAVAGE YOUR BODY, I DON'T NEED DRUGS WHEN YOUR LIPS ARE LIKE POPPIES. DROWNING IN SHEETS IS MY NEW FAVORITE HOBBY. USE UP YOUR BREATH, TELL ME HOW BAD YOU WANT ME.
There was a tingle at the edges of my fingers.
A warming sensation.
It spread along my hand. Arm.
It was soothing, a mother's touch.
Convincing, persuading.
Then pain. Blinding, paralyzing pain.
I can see clearly now. A realness.
The cure.
Purification by fire.
TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, LET ME RAVAGE YOUR BODY, I DON'T NEED DRUGS WHEN YOUR LIPS ARE LIKE POPPIES. DROWNING IN SHEETS IS MY NEW FAVORITE HOBBY. USE UP YOUR BREATH, TELL ME HOW BAD YOU WANT ME.
Someone had a gun
Sharp steel.
Brain matter everywhere.
Meshed in my clothes.
I knew it before it happened. I tasted it, rolled the bullet on my tongue.
It hit. Help.
I opened my mouth, but my voice stuck.
It's gone. Not permanently.
Healed. Phoenix.
I reach out and force into minds.
I invade, I probe.
That is the only way I can talk.
Sometimes I can't.
I walk in their skin. See what they saw.
My fingers tingle if they see touch.
I taste things they've eaten.
I am them. In that moment.
I've worked up defenses.
Because I wonder,
If they know I'm inside, looking.
TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, LET ME RAVAGE YOUR BODY, I DON'T NEED DRUGS WHEN YOUR LIPS ARE LIKE POPPIES. DROWNING IN SHEETS IS MY NEW FAVORITE HOBBY. USE UP YOUR BREATH, TELL ME HOW BAD YOU WANT ME.
Freshly killed or not, it smells like blood.
It calms me.
My mouth waters. A lot more than it should.
I carry it with me. I have all night.
I completed several job applications.
People stared.
They're still staring even after I tell them it's my first home decoration.
I keep it plugged in, in Phoenix's room.
I like the light.
It's not the sun.
My burns are gone.
I miss them.
TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES, LET ME RAVAGE YOUR BODY, I DON'T NEED DRUGS WHEN YOUR LIPS ARE LIKE POPPIES. DROWNING IN SHEETS IS MY NEW FAVORITE HOBBY. USE UP YOUR BREATH, TELL ME HOW BAD YOU WANT ME.
