Jim didn’t plan on leaving his birthday party. He didn’t even plan on leaving the building, going outside – he saw Barry the Polka Bull walk out the door, and it stayed hanging just open, calling to him.

I am from the nail polish in my room,

From holographic glitter and high heels.

I am from the toys on the ground

(rainbow, soft, Sasha never picks them up.)

I am from cacti pricking my fingers,

From shopping and thanksgiving,

Alone to my thoughts, to my terrors,

Wishing upon days we were careless,

Remembering a time, 

Like a nursery rhyme,

Where our greatest fears were that of the fearless.

If time could be measured in words

I would handwrite novels until my knuckles bled

Analyze every single piece written by Steven King twice

Type poems so complex so that the meaning gets lost

Construct every screenplay to give you the ending you deserve