Twenty-four, twenty-four. Silver fox fur. A blackened, black-end bottom lip. Acoustic caustics acclimate, agitate. No need to run. Modern houses with modern locks; and modern lock-pickers. A sheet of cara cara orange stickers. They chewed your favorite pen, do something about that. Rough them up. Shooting down hang gliders with anti-air artillery. Enough money to go around, but I don’t want to share. Showering your special someone in their own blood. Cuffed to the wall; keep kicking your feet, I don’t care. Squawking and squeaking, the insuppressible utter annoyance of the mouse they’ve taped to your back.
Julie, please have this done by Friday. Julie, please rinse the coffee pot. Hostile houseplant. Chattering with the cheetahs–take notes please. Nevada’s gone mad, have you seen the news? Injecting yourself with every last needle you can find: the true way to live prosperously. Take what’s yours, it’s about time; haven’t you had enough? You can bash your head against all the rocks you’d like, but I’ve found boulders to be more effective. Alternatively, tie yourself to an old tree and set it on fire. Come back a beautiful phoenix. You could be so beautiful.
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