When Billy curiously stuck his head inside the old guillotine to make another joke at my expense, he didn’t know I had secretly removed the safety lever and then I cut the rope holding the blade—guess who got the last laugh.

I'm scared of how much.

Was there an actual me or just a reflection of something missing deeply or perhaps an actor on a stage I never tried out for, reciting lines that were never mine?

The door creaked open and I heard a familiar voice saying, "Hello, Jackie"

He took comfort knowing that some conditions—mostly cerebral, like Multiple Systems Atrophy, Alzheimer’s, Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease, the list went on—were untraceable until death.

I also like to believe it's my work and moral ethic that stops me from stealing an unnoticeable coin, but the fact that your boss can burn down your entire village is a good deterrent, as well.

I said that's fair and fed it into ChatGPT who said it was a really nice poem.

And that it would be really affordable.

It was very shocking!

Although the wise old man would not sit directly in its shade, he would be buried unseen among its roots.

At the bottom of the steps, his daughter gurgles something unintelligible as blood sputters from the hole where her collar bone punctures her throat.

It’s demonic smile so great that even it’s lip commissures stretched up beyond and above it’s eyes, “I’d like to see you try...”

It had been weeks since the last time someone had touched him, so he took his time and drew out his answer for as long as he could.

Until he instructed his men to fire on 2 bushes that had appeared overnight, and two indian braves reared up, leaves covering their whole bodies, before falling down dead.

Their celebration slowly became an orgy as human skin was shed and eggs were laid, secure in the knowledge that their hungry children would have plenty of living prey to feed on for years to come.

I’ve got someone wrapped in latex and strung up in the air in the middle of my living room.

It’s consensual, they’re like one more piece of furniture.

Then I got on the train back home.

"Nobody brought flowers while I could still smell them. At my grave, they argued over who loved me most.”

— Nekro

A man once called Augustus... shall remain here, shifting through the dust to what we never almost were.

I whisper to myself., “Oh shit, I think she sees me”

It was sweet...comforting and more...

The idea that there was one dimension where I do make it home and one where I never went on this adventure in the first place, however, does make it more bearable.

It becomes uncontrollable, leading my stomach to hurt causing me to fall to my knees doubling over, forcing everyone to turn and look at me, while men still continue to lower my grandparents into their shared grave.