why’d i make him climb all that way
up fifty-five flights of goddam stairs
i didn’t need to break my only neck
in pursuit of prey in the month of may
why’d i make him muck in dung and clay
down sixty-six steps of slippy trails
i didn’t have to snap my only coccyx
in pursuit of prey in trial bay
why’d i make him jump into the fray
against seventy-seven blood streaked fists
i didn’t like to choke on my only teeth
in pursuit of prey when he fell that day
just who was that bolter anyway
what had he done that demanded death
i have soiled my only soul
in pursuit of prey i didn’t want for prey
a darkness was waiting in the wings
for the final curtain call on my veins
and even though i’d stepped away
gaslight still thrubbed a spell in my brain
i was skipping across the icy stones
upending my way toward a new home
determined to outrun the snowstorm
the hollow blast of their winter gloam
maybe i’m broken
but now i know i’m free
just a short run and i’ll be there
white lies the wolf at my throat
i was stepping outside the story cage
the one they’d fashioned, devoid of heat
that was meant to contain and subdue me
an austere tale more terror than sweet
the world broken down on every side
i upended way beyond their reach
never again would the cage define me
my soul to keep from dogma’s teach
maybe i’m foreswooned
but for now i know i am free
just a short run and i’ll be there
their lies the wolf at my throat
when they gorged on the fumes of their dead sun
i knew i could never be one of their pack
when they piously bayed against the moon
as it dared to haunt them from out of the black
so now i’m appending beyond their beseech
loping for ice that burns a ruby glow
stepping and running before i expire
to the inevitable ebb of fate’s flow
maybe i’m foredoomed
for now i know for sure i am free
just a short run and i’ll be somewhere
your lies the wolf at my throat
an orange lays on the table
juicy and fresh
the apple is feeling rotten
much less than blessed
a radio on the wall
forecasts a storm
the tv near the window
declares the day too warm
two ants near my feet
fight for a crumb
a chaffinch takes flight
escapes the mortal thumb
life all around me
is full of small wonders
evolution’s more than
stray, successive blunders
that gives rise to hope
no, i’m not a mistake
forged in the heart of stars
you plus me, we equal awake
even if sometimes
i feel like a rotten apple
i’m an orange soul
warm beneath the leafy dapple
or: EPISODE 9 // Where Tati Battles Demonic Barbers and Tony Falls for a Bounteous Bouffant
In our previous episode, Tati threatened to drop Tony like a lead balloon, and demonstrated an unexpected knowledge of the Bible. And Tony? Well… Tony was just Tony (but with less hair and wearing a whale’s stomach).
“Tony!” Tati whacked another Acolyte of Beguiling Beauty on the head with her umbrella before sharply turning around. “Tony, what are you doing?! Throw away that bloody wig and help me, you fucking hamsters’ lick-spittle!”
Tony was just standing there. There were practically love hearts in his eyes for what looked like a dead rodent in his hands. How that thing could be labelled a wig was beyond her imagining. The Acolytes of Beguiling Beauty had them completely surrounded now, and all he could do was moon over this piece of shit!
“Call me what you want,” cooed Tony, stroking the ‘wig’. “But don’t be dissin’ this bounteous bouffant!”
Tati performed a head spinning, flying somersault and landed right in the middle of the group near Tony. Another second and the wig was swinging at the tip of her umbrella. She grabbed Tony with one hand and brandished the umbrella with the other, driving away the growling and hissing Acolytes.
“What the fuck are these things?” she grimaced. “They’re nothing like any barbers I’ve seen.”
“They kinda look a bit like Edward Scissorhands,” said Tony, almost in awe. “But more androgynous, and with more impressive hair. I just hope they don’t accidentally cut my bits off!”
Tony snatched the wig off of Tati’s umbrella and covered his naked willy with it.
“I don’t believe you!” Tati was furious. She grabbed the calamitous wig from him and threw it away, causing Tony to squeak. “We’re surrounded by an army of Johnny Depp zombies, and all you can think of is your silly doodle?”
“It’s not silly to me. I need my doodle!”
Tati smacked an Acolyte aside. It slid on its back down the wall of the barber shop, and ended up in a crumpled heap on the floor. She yanked Tony with her and cut a swathe through the rest of them, mainlining for the door.
“It’s kind of ironic that we materialised in this hellish barber shop,” added Tony, almost as an afterthought. “Given that we’re now, you know, bald.”
“No, it’s not ironic. You’re bald and a fool!” They were nearly at the door now. “It’s your wishes. The umbrella brings you to the place you wish to be at the most! And while I was trying to think of a safe spot your idiotic fantasies beat me to it!”
“But… but why would I dream of being at the barber shop if I have no hair?”
Tati shoved Tony through the door. He tripped and stumbled into the street, ending up on all fours.
“Just shut up and think of a better place!” barked Tati. She was trying to keep the Acolytes inside with the tip of her umbrella. It was quite sharp, and they seemed to heed this fact, cowering just out of its reach—though this didn’t stop them from clicking their scissor like hands in a rather menacing manner.
“From crater to a whale’s stomach—and now this! How is it that we end up in these ridiculous situations?”
“Stop whining!” snapped Tati. ” Just think! Quickly!”
She tried to barricade the door with her leg, her finger hovering anxiously over the button on the umbrella’s handle. Tony, still on all fours, looked at her horror-stricken.
