there is a man
a murderer
(the Columbine murderer?)
no. why do you think that?
wrong wrong wrong.

the bodies lay flat
around the Colorado
suburban home.

he is tall, has dark hair.
he has been following me,
around the places i know.
me,
and two others.

we are on a porch.
he has been watching us,
in parking lots,
around my quiet thoughts,
he has been inside,
without permission.

he has already taken us horizontal.
chosen.
our biographies splattered,
our secrets ripped.
i am ruined.
“You? You’ve never gotten an A+ in your life.”
is he right? no, he is lying.
i want to impress the part of him that can still make me feel worthy of his affection.

i think about ways i can cut off his head because his skin has proved bulletproof.

we take arms and squeeze.
i think briefly that i have won,
but it is his game.
i want to end his.

the bodies of my friends are cut into pieces and burned,
like vegetables in a line,
but thicker.
i think about toothpaste.
things that can fit into the palm of my hand.
important.
this is important.
he cannot win.
those who do not value human breath should not breathe.

don’t forget,
there is no evidence.

I dream about people I am not actually close to so that when I wake up, my first thoughts are run-over emotions and connections that are completely fabricated. I do not blame my dreams.
I own a strange purse that I would never actually touch in reality and it is empty except for my hand digging inside of it. My hand is full of rings I have stolen and their sharp designs dig lightly into my skin. I am shopping in a mall of complete glamour and I cannot stop stealing. No one can catch me and so I continue because I know I can. My friends are mad at me and they run steps ahead of me and pretend they don't know me. I look down and see that I am dressed like them and this makes me want to scream. I think I have stolen everything I am wearing.

Before, we were at a party. The alcohol was low and everyone was dressed for summer and wearing shades of blue. I felt misplaced and angry. I think it was because I knew I would not be drunk. This makes me angry in reality.

When I awoke, I was speaking out loud explaining to my friends why they should still like me and my black cat is wrapped between my legs. My teeth hurt so I take a vicodin.