Directions: Each player in turn rolls two dice and rapidly says a phrase or sentence comprised of the number of words shown on the dice. The dice are then quickly passed to the next player, who continues the narrative. (Players: AM, K, HC, SC, MB)
butter off dead (than unloved)
we were passing through the forest when without warning a giant magnificent dogface jumped above the treetops and shouted that he was truly dead.
just then, the glass forest bloomed bloodroses and the forest decided to change. savory gemstones boiled w/in the pot of iron and spoke longingly, crying “debased chickens never hatch in the wormworld that we inhabit now that the dice have rolled.” and then the fiery gemstones flew into the rainbow of our sad desires.
but anyways, the dogface flying above the mountain of misery and despair melted into nothing but butter. the butter was liquid, steaming, and sticky. it burned like butter usually does when it gets hot. simmering stovetops burn butter but kitchen mice are unable to reform their hearts back to their innocent births.
what remained of dogface was found in the butter and the forest where the butter burned screamed and butter never was anything but dust floating through the universe unloved.
from here to black mars (the liberation of emptiness)
my cataleptic kitten says, “please don’t leave me in the kitchen sink. you always throw that out. for once take me to the park w/ you so I can learn why you love to see the sky twinkle. humans are so funky and fresh. i don’t understand why they lie.”
i listened. i hugged my cataleptic kitten. we left and got on our big ship and sailed to the island of tropical breezes where nobody can hear singing rainbow lobsters pontificate. and on that island we spent our days in peace. crabs cried. coconuts fried. the palm trees wept. i told catty, “listen, this is what life is for. to gaze; to ponder; and feel the silence…the silence in the moon’s spiderweb which will help you to peacefully die.”
catty looked at me. i wondered if i had scared her. but she didn’t feel too saucy. instead she made an erector set home to comfort them both and leave the island. the home was in my head too often. and i wanted to free myself forever. my skin shed. my hope fled. and i couldn’t take it. it’s not big enough for both us. i summoned the courage deep w/in my soul.
catty saw my courage and wept. then devoured it with her laughter. she knew that all my pain and struggles were inside me. i couldn’t leave. “here, eat this magical fruit from the tree of good and mediocrity. and you…you can learn to live this time.”
“you’re right,” i said. “idk why it’s always so complicated. i see the way; you’re acting like you don’t know me. but i’m in love w/ you.”
catty disappeared. and so did i.
we were in the land of black. black magicians, black cars, black mars bars, black gold. i can’t see. i can’t hear. but at least i can taste and so i will finally taste what life is.
i tried to lick catty. she leapt. i followed because she tasted like that mars bar i liked so much. like mars, like bar, like catty — forever intertwined my love.
i tripped over a caveworm and into a place where i had no body. i was nothing. nothing was inside me. i was empty. empty of love and everything else. the emptiness was liberating. eternal emptiness enchanted me. and i did not want to be devoured by another glow of flesh. the cold was clean. yes; no; never again. i shan’t; i won’t, but I am always here. just here and i am enough. even w/o my cat.
the end of harvesting masculinity; or, the harvester on the moon
i hate this guy. he always says that i am nothing but a little worm and i don’t know anything about harvesting fruit on the mountain of sorrow. fuck him. fuck his face. fuck his stupid brain and all his stupid little ideas that infuriate my brain. what does he even know about my experience harvesting all the jelly worms on the side of the fruit on the mountain of sorrow.
he didn’t even know about the lost butterflies trapped in my heart. i won’t let them out. not even how they could improve the entire village’s ethical experience.
i deserted that guy. i jumped in my submarine and took off down that steep set of rapids that rolled down his body. escaped the long years of being suppressed and feeling like i was never good enough or pretty enough for him or even anybody else. i journey through jungles wearing the skin of a great ape.
next were the hills of downy flowers under deep purple skies and a pink sun. the flowers sang and breathed. and when they spoke i recognized the voice as my former voice of hope. it said, “he is no hymn. he has no self or other. listen lady, he ain’t shit. he was never the ewe inside the geometric planetoid. listen, leave this ratrace behind and dripout. drip like glass. drip like water under ice. drip like amnion. drip like milk from the teet of a warm sheep.”
i dreamed. i dreamed of genie. and she granted me every secret want. first, she granted me the guy i thought i wanted and then instead she gave me a toasty pretzel of my heartbreaks. and as my teeth sunk into the dough i heard the music of my beauty bloom back into the softness of infancy.
i cried. i pulled out his intestines, ground them, and they evaporated into quiet nothingness. i felt like a worm. he was the worm i always imagined.
but enough of that guy. the flowers spoke again. i joined in chorus until i found a great truth inside myself. the truth was hard, deep as obsidian. i saw a great multitude of lost dead seagulls at coney island and then i threw myself from the hill into the sea and i sank into it. it was black. i could barely breathe under the waves until my gills grew in like slits. and then a bright blue dragon pooped out a seagull w/o feathers. it was eyeless. it was wingless and it was w/o sanity.
it sang, “go back. find that which you lost. and then return here. when you see her, you will know her to be the self you once loved so little.” the seagull was right. i sank into the sun and came out a steamy buttered bun. butterflies; butter flies. i left the sun behind. next was the moon. it was wet w/ drizzling warm spectral aardvarks but anyways i completely ignored all that and continued towards the glowing mountain peak.
the dragon laid sleeping atop it. the seagull sat on its butt; said, “you’re back. look yonder. do you see the prophesied witch. she plays with your your.”
“i know,” i said, ”that’s why i’m a sand witch. but when was i here before? when was i stuck between two pieces of magic? what is the butter that makes you feel alive and pretty and spreads itself across your shining glimmering buoyant soul?
“it is on your sandwich, you foremost witch of the sands. go ye and make ye into the tastes of your dreams. what are the words of your spell that transforms? what are your ingredients? what witch wears whose wise? what when where why? i shall leave and return to the beginning. otherwise known as when.”
thus the seagull left. when i dreamed, i seemed only to dream but i was more awake than asleep. lucid, and entirely conscious i saw that it floated in pellucid slumber. the seagull was there w/o the witch. at the start. the seagull; the worm; the dragon; the…
