Mimeographed Mondays blow around the office of my life in an ancient, unnerving breeze. My boss is capricious and vain. I’m fairly certain the accounting and finance departments are trying to bend me over and make me their bitch. The whole place smells like my grandmother’s carpet. I dream of a beach far away, monochromatic and silent.
Day: February 3, 2025
Jagged, Glittering Edges
The jagged, glittering edges of my anthropomorphic mind betray my feral, untouchable nature. Fire is my frenemy. On Wednesdays, I swim along the river, redefining the definitions of my name in the magical moonlight. My mind sometimes trails behind me, gathering ghosts and children’s balloons as I go through the luscious cities of flesh. Flesh exuberant. Flesh demeaned. On days ending in why, I dig through trash cans and wash my hands on the blood of mosquitoes. My mind is an amethyst cave, painful and expensive to sit in.
Miniature Moon 