Tuesday, September 27, 2016

It's time.

"It's time," I say.

"For what?" they ask.

"To stop pretending I'm something that I'm not, that it's just a matter of adding salt," I say.

"The lithium, it makes you much easier to get along with darling," they say.

"Shut up, come to bed, or run for your lives, either is fun for me," I say.

Like lawn gnomes they set, immobile, unintelligent, yet to decide.

There will be screams, blood, fury, rage, and I will enjoy myself. Whether anyone else does? Is entirely up to them.

Peace, love, hatred, my friends. 

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