Jack! she keeps yelling as I scribble, he coughs and laughs and I was at a loss for words. just for a moment: below my feet lay the grease and oil seeping from my dear old gramps. The soil would not hold anymore and SPAT it at me, into the bubbling, growing pool I stood in. ummmm. What a joy was he, the poor machine, who had played guitar and sang me cooling lullabies in the sweltering summer nights. who had been the best scrabble coach I knew, who I had never beaten as I grew. who had simply stopped one day, and stared through window for weeks before I did what I do. 

​

Oh God! she screams but I must keep on. He throws up and heaves and heaves and please shut up I have to fill the page. I lift my toes from the sludge, squelch and other unpleasant noises occur. No conscious, no worried about spells or biting or guilt - it all goes in the pie. It has never been as dark as this day nor as bright as this night. Again the words crawl through my hair and turn thrice before settling in for bed. 

​

I remember the middle, it was… something else, something so tragic and pale the place. the sounds befuddled the male and he drowned his grieving away. chaser no chaser no chasing no more. no sweating or scrabble or pacing no more. no sweet summer singing, the girl just keeps screaming, the moon beams keep beaming, on pools sticky steaming, no hope of redeeming, no meaning no meaning no more.

​

Oh No.