Zombie Love Song
My dear I miss you now you’re dead
I want you nightly in my bed
What is that you just said?
“Brains, brains, brains…”
Your rotting breast I long to hold
Your inner love has now gone cold
My friends all say your love is old
“Brains, brains, brains…”
Your lovely eye has just popped out
And fallen in the sauerkraut
I love you still, please do not doubt
“Brains, brains, brains…”
Your chubby ass has turned quite black
Your nipples grey, your belly slack
And still I want you in the sack
“Brains, brains, brains…”
I want to slide myself in you
Kiss your lips and your neck too
But all I see is moldy goo
“Brains, brains, brains…”
I can’t resist your deadly charms
Though your smell starts fire alarms
So hold me in your rotting arms
“Brains, brains, brains…”
My love for you drives me insane
And still you sing the same refrain
So please, please eat my little brain
“Brains, brains, brai…”
Half Full
Living in New York has taught me the value of my own time. Other cultures (European, Californian, etc.) have often critiqued New Yorkers for "always being in a rush." Some have said that New Yorkers speed walk through their lives. However, I just see that as prioritizing efficiency, which is why I've always preferred receiving bad news first. If there's a problem that needs to be solved, I can figure it out during the time it takes for you to tell me the good news. My therapist says that this is a way to "postpone my own happiness" or whatever that's supposed to mean. I started seeing her as a way to help with my depression and anxiety. Being depressed can make getting out of bed feel like an insurmountable task. Putting on my bra can be as draining as trying to watch the first 2020 Presidential Debate sober. My mentally healthy roommates find it hard to understand why my room is perpetually in a state of disarray and my laundry bag overfloweth. However, I think it's even harder for them to understand why I'm still unemployed. I don't really get it myself, but I learned in college that the television industry is a little tricky to break into. When I graduated I assumed that it would take two, maybe three months to get a job but I quickly realized that I wouldn't be able to speed walk into a writer's room. Over the past six months of unemployment, my preference for hearing bad news first has developed into a need. Every new job posting is a vehicle for the waning hope I have for my career. Therefore, the sooner I get rejected the sooner I can get back to scouring jobs on Indeed and LinkedIn. The amount of time it takes for me to overcome disappointment is the same amount of time it takes for me to write another cover letter.
Good or Bad?
"So, do you want the good news first or the bad news?" She asked.
However, I couldn't help but take notice of her tone. It wasn't the light, airy, melodic tone she usually spoke with. No, this was... different. Darker.
I watched as she wrung her pale, slender hands in front of her body. Her head swiveled left, then right as she tried to look anywhere but directly at me.
And that was when I saw it. It was barely visible at first. In fact, I was sure I'd have missed it entirely had I not been watching her so intently. But slight as it may have been, it was there. Her entire body trembled as if someone had set all of her motor functions to vibrate.
I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't. The only hint of light on this damned desolate ship. The bright, bubbly woman I had grown to look up to, was terrified of something. And I was willing to bet that it had something to do with whatever it was she came to tell me.
"What's the bad news?" I asked.
BROKEN MIRRORS
I've done it again
Haven't I?
Peep and retrieve
corrupt drive
One minute in a second
a second in a moment
a moment of thousand reflections
shattered thoughts
and broken perceptions
I chose poorly
I chose defeat
stuck in limbo
wanting relief
I need to go back
Just a minute
Retrace my tracks
mend the bad steel
Replace my drive
choose to stand still
Protect my mind
do the right thing
