The night makes the little demons feel bold and they start chittering. That's what it feels like--a sharp white noise in the back of my brain.
Kind of like an octopus or squid sucking in its prey.
You can't do this thing called life. You're a loser and a bad person. You should cross stitch more. No one is every going to love you in that way. You will be an exhausted salesgirl for the rest of your life. Smoking will kill you. Ice cream will kill you. You're going to lose Angel. You're going to lose your house. They take away your disability. You will get sick from all the germs and badness out there. You're simply not enough. You have no retirement. You're wasting time. You're a bad person. You're guardian angel doesn't even like you.
They also just poke little sharp milk teeth at the soft spots. All those places that have scabbed over, have scar tissue, or are fresh--that's what they go for.
I feel like I'm watching myself from above. Who is this? What is she doing? This is not me--I am not even connected to that person.
"I should have been a pair of ragged claws scuttling across the floors of silent seas."
The fear crawls in at night.
Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless
In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel.
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