If I were a unicorn
stuck in human skin
it’d make a lot of sense.

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Did you read this?
Does it matter?
I care so much
that I’m heard
so rarely
do people notice
unless I chatter
and then
it’s only to point out
I talk too much.

I’m afraid of silence
but that’s what’s wanted
from me.

I’m afraid of others
noticing me
because then
they might feel
like I do.

I can’t hide
I don’t even try
but for some reason
I’m still hidden.

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I wish I could inspire
an artist to paper and pen.
To bring to life
myself, again,
simply because
he loves me so much
he can’t help but make more of me.

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often think
I’m angry or frustrated
when really?

I’m excited.
I’m into it.

“Why are you so frustrated?”
is the most frustrating thing.
I wasn’t till a second ago,

A friend often says
she has no emotional privacy
because it’s all plain
on her face.

For me it’s like
speaking another language
that everyone thinks they know.
They’re translating it wrong.

That’s not happiness
it’s melancholy.
That’s not frustration
it’s excitement.

That’s not depression
oh wait, nope, it is.
Even a blind dog
barks in the right direction

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Is life a series
of milestones
that we continue to see
over and over
because we keep forgetting
it’s a circle?

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The story of my life:
I should be doing work.

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I have a puppy
and I think he loves me
he wants to be near me
(especially if he can hear me)
even when sleeping.

Sometimes I wonder
if he loves me
because I feed him
pet him
play with him?

Then I remember
that’s how I came to love
my family.

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The unlovable person
who is a lovable figure.

I wrote this about myself
long enough ago to have

It’s a trap.

If others claim to love me
I can claim they love the figure.


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Inktober 19: The Imperial Assassin

“Have you heard from your bee?”

“No, sire, but the hive is buzzing. No doubt the little worker bees will have some information to share soon.”

“Be sure it is so.”

The Emperex left the small room, their cloak floating behind them dramatically. If the Queen Bee hadn’t known it was an artificial flourish, she may have been mildly impressed with their flair. As it stood, however, she was the one who created the mechanism.

The Queen Bee waited a few minutes until the emperex was liked in another wing of the royal district of the ship before she left. Her gait was slow and deliberate, but silent. As she walked she scrolled through communications in her cortical implant, looking for word back from her missing bee. The assassin had been sent nearly a shipboard month previously to take out the leader of a free-trade association that stifled new enterprises. She hadn’t heard back, and neither had any of her hives or queens that she’d placed all over the galaxy. She grumbled. The old superstition came to mind, that a bee could only sting once before it died. She hadn’t sent one of her own to kill in decades for precisely this reason. She usually pollinated dissent, instead. The emperex was clear, this time. Death. Directly. They wanted it tied back to the empire. Well, and it would be, especially if her bee’s body was found. At the cost of her reputation, though.

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Inktober 18: The Space Beast

The old woman bustled about in the small galley kitchen. “Just sit on either chair, I don’t mind either.” I looked at the two armchairs; one was clearly sagged and more used than the other, so I left it empty as I sat in the other. A subtle look of pleasure flashed on her face as she walked into the room with a tray. An ancient looking tea set with floral designs and a delicate pair of cups and saucers was laid out precisely on the tray as she placed it down on the table between us. No scones or finger-snacks were provided, but small jars with cream and sugar sat on either side of the steaming teapot.

She poured from the spout in her cup directly, not adding any sugar or cream. In my cup she placed a small strainer as she poured the tea, leaving room when I indicated I would add my own.

“I just love tea,” she said, holding her saucer and cup formally. “This mixture is herbal, a mixture of florals from an Earth-like planet that captures what I’m told is the soul of ‘black tea’ from Earth-past. Isn’t it delightful?” I nodded and stirred in my sugar as she carefully took a sip of her black tea before putting her cup and saucer down. “Now, why have you come to visit me?”

I took a moment to sip at my tea, still too hot. “Well. I was sent here.”

“Ah, that old bounty, dear?”


She grinned “It’s very kind of you to be frank about it.”

“Well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting all of this. I wasn’t expecting… you? You don’t look like a beast.” She laughed, the sound like little bells. While I watched her, however, I saw a flash of her true nature. Skin sallow, teeth jagged, multi-rowed, eyes bloodshot and bigger than the saucers. It was only a moment, hardly noticeable, more felt than seen.

“My, aren’t you a charmer? No, I suppose I don’t look like a ‘beast’ as you say. In truth I never have. Men fail to recognize that which they cannot understand and to label it as beastly, don’t they? If you saw what you know now to be a butterfly, but didn’t know its name, what would you do what would you call it?”

“Maybe not a butterfly, but I wouldn’t call it a beast…”

“Wouldn’t you, though? You would have no context for its existence. You would not know that it pollinates and feeds other animals. You would see it simply as a waste and a piece of evolutionary trash and fuel. It is something that is fodder for things which are, in fact, beastly.” I could feel her words like silk wrapping my own thoughts and found myself nodding. “This makes it in and of itself beastly.”

“But does that mean that everything is beastly? It all shares in that cycle.”

“Indeed. But not everything lives outside the direct cycle of men. When it does, that is when it becomes beastly.” She sipped some more tea. “And I suppose I am quite beastly in that light.” She turned her cup upside-down on the saucer and replaced it in the tray.

“You exist… outside of the cycle?”

“Oh yes, dear. I am quite a nihilistic creature. I exist and persist because I exist. Not to create or contribute or even intentionally take away. I consume without producing for others’ benefit.” I blinked, my head feeling foggy. “You see, another quality of beastly things is that they tend to be predators or prey. And they are almost always identified by the prey they hunt.” I looked at the tea and put my cup down quickly. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s hardly poisoned.”

When I looked at her it was like I saw her twice. The kindly old woman sitting there and from within her extended the creature from before, jaws stretched wide to devour me. It lunged forward, “you wouldn’t taste quite so good, then, and I do hate tummy aches.”

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