Foooo-

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Times like these, I see Odradek. Fuck Odradek. Spindle shaped shithead. Don't give a shit 'bout him. What does he know? Nothin', that's what.

I have seen this do damage; I have seen the fatal, blunt nose of this blast through lips and jawbones and the clutched up bones of the chest. I am a notorious collector, and I do not even have as good a reason as others for it. But I've seen enough shit to be freaked into collecting. Giving nothing; collecting nothing. Rolling myself to the end. Take that Odradek. Eternal twit.

I would rather kill than be killed; I would very much like to survive. And by killed, I mean three or four things at once, because they are all tied up in each other. I've seen some things, man, I've seen some things--and so a part of me is determined to feel no more. Just a little closer, down the bend, under the lip of--I know how it goes--and before you know it, you're murdered, up and dead.

I would rather kill than be killed.
I've seen shit.
I've seen some things, man.
I've seen nothing: I collect. I run. I collect.

And I know the collector can die under collecting as well; it is perhaps a worse death, even--suffocation. Crushing of bones and wings and pins until it's all just...just dead. Until you collect yourself. Until you're lost in Xanadu and ain't nobody gonna find you no matter what you give for 'em (and Kane had quite a bit to give--sort of).

A matchstick lives to burn; those five seconds before fleshsootsulfurburned. But af-

I am biting my tail into neat little tufts--each just enough for a brush, for a little dab of ink, for another little Odradek to eat its way into the world.

nom nom nom

I am careful of my deaths.
I die singular.
I bite my tail.
I pull Odradeks into this world by the tongue and the teeth. When they resist, I snap out their eyes. And that's all there is to it.

If I could catch that little twit-legged monster and pull a switch-a-roo, I would. I am familiar with Mr. Gray's unfortuitous experience. But still, I don't think I could help myself. I would take my legs and run myself to--into--

EdnaEmmaHedulia sees Hedulia saw Hedulia is troubled Hedulia is staying right here on this blog and never leaving ever leaving she is dead because she refuses to die she is mad because she has seen shit seen things and bit her tail to shreds for it and hide the pieces in a little crawl (silly scrawls) and wait for someone else to find them and go mad and bite and dig like her.