You
I love you. And you’re all over my walls. Dark, dripping, biting. This right-angled bludgeoner, covered in you. You trickle downward to the head, form a droplet, and fall to the floor. Drip into your own massacred eye sockets. Can’t you see how much I love you? This deep red romance. Not that Romeo and Juliet bullshit. This is true passion.
Eye of Your Apple
A lot of people come here. They have to. If they didn’t, they might shrivel up like a raisin and decompose into fertilizer. The human kind. Then they could truly aid in the growth of their own fruits and vegetables. But how useful would that be to a pile of dirt? Not very.
Death for Furniture: A Very Short Dialogue
CAT WOMAN: Hey!
WAITING WOMAN: I’ve been here for 15 minutes.
CAT WOMAN: Shit, sorry. My cat brought a live bird into my basement. It was flying into the windows and I spent the last half hour trying to deal with it.
WAITING WOMAN: What did you do?
CAT WOMAN: Chased it down with a fly swatter.
WAITING WOMAN: Are you serious?
