John Wayne Gacy, Jr.

His father was a drinker,
And his mother cried in bed,
Folding John Wayne's t-shirts,
When the swingset hit his head,
The neighbors, they adored him,
For his humor and his conversation,
Look underneath the house there,
Find the few living things, rotting fast, in their sleep,
Oh, the dead,

Twenty-seven people,
Even more, they were boys,
With their cars, summer jobs,
Oh my God,

Are you one of them?

He dressed up like a clown for them,
With his face paint white and red,
And on his best behavior,
In a dark room on the bed,
He kissed them all,
He'd kill ten thousand people,
With a sleight of his hand,
Running far, running fast to the dead,
He took off all their clothes for them,
He put a cloth on their lips,
Quiet hands, quiet kiss on the mouth,

And in my best behavior,
I am really just like him,
Look beneath the floor boards,
For the secrets I have hid.

- Sufjan Stevens

A Journalist Falls in Love with Deathrow Inmate

I was writing his story,
And he gave me a look,
He was very handsome, distractingly so,
and I never dreamed that he'd be my boyfriend,
He wrote me letters, daily from prison,
That said I know I've killed a few,
But none of those women were you,
I couldn't speak,
It was over for me,
I found my grim reaper prince,

Well, he said he loved me,
And he cooked me dinner,
He cut my lungs out,
And made me feel thinner,
And I'll never forget him,
Now that it's over,
The life that we had,
When they strapped him down,
Oh, but how all the girls were jealous,
Cause he liked me the best,
Oh, and I couldn't breathe,
It was true love indeed,
But now my grim prince is gone,

Well I said I loved him,
When they strapped him in,
But he wasn't cryin',
He took it like a man, 
And the families watched him,
As he breathed his last,
But I got rather angry,
I started to laugh,
And say now he's got what's comin',
He was due his lot,
Oh, and I couldn't see, there were tears on my cheek,
Goodbye, my grim reaper prince,
Goodbye, my grim reaper prince,
Goodbye, goodbye,
I'll see you in a while,
Goodbye,
Farewell,
Good luck.

- Margot & the Nuclear So and So's

Sigh

"I just wanna know how he's doing..."

"...You could just ask him."

"He could just tell me!"

Two things

There are two things that keeps running through my mind on an endless marathon.

All I ever think about is my boyfriend, and food.

I am lonely, and I am hungry.

People

Here I am, in my dark-but-lit, cold-but-warm room, thinking about yesterday's event. There was a short circuit in our house and we had to face a blackout. Shaby suggested going downstairs to the study room to charge our laptop batteries, but I was reluctant. When asked why, I said, "Because there are people downstairs." She made a good point about it being a Sunday afternoon though, so there won't be anyone, so we went down, glad that she's there to accompany me, at least. I can only tolerate the certain people I have allowed into my special circle, anyway, and she is definitely in it.

There was only one other guy in the study room. The ceiling fan above us did not work, while the fan across from us creaked terribly like it was begging for us to end its life. A dragonfly appeared when I was drawing Omar's Flygon ANON character. It shocked me, so I shooed it away with my words, and it did go away. Tari showed me and Shaby some cat-dog videos and pictures, which cheered me up for a while.

Shaby and I went to buy dinner out front, and I kept complaining about having to eat in the plaza; the public. I hate people. I just don't like being seen in public... sometimes.

Since our house was still dark when we got back, and we lost all the drive to do anything, I suggested that we go sit by the pool and talk. We were doing just fine until a couple of African guys approached us and talked to us. We played it cold and gave fake names. Shaby was awesome at deterring them with her glare, which that one guy described as 'a grenade'. I can't believe they dared to ask us if we're in the mood for dark chocolate...

Despicable. Abhorring. Deplorable.

It's these kinds of feelings that make me not want to put myself out there in the public world. I have to constantly have my earphones on to avoid having to talk to people when I'm walking or waiting somewhere. I have to have my shoulders tensed up like a spring each time I'm out in the open with other people, just in case I have to strike back physically. I have to be rude and think of a solid alias to use when strange men give off that unsettling aura as they talk to me.

It's limiting me down... from trying to live and be happy. I hate it.

I hate people.

The Cub and the Foal

I couldn't sleep. I couldn't rest.

I saw the Cub and the Foal, crying, as if for their mother, from across a large chasm.

We were separated. I thought of leaving them there, but their desire to be together was too strong. I was pulled towards them.

We embraced. Tightly. They stayed for the company, never letting go. They stayed with me as they grew up. We grew up. We grew up together. We always have been.

They promised; They vowed to be better. We worked out a plan to better our home, together. We kept seeing the Eagle, (the Ferret was with her, longing to join us) but we pulled our eyes away from her. We had to keep her out of our home. (Not that she was trying to intrude or anything, we just feel defensive.)

At least for now.

Heatwave - Glowbug

I used to run with the idiots,
I cut my teeth in one resentful tribe,
When something dark lightens up again,
I won't lie; it feels alright,

Who wants a life on a moving train?
The never-ending mountains crawling by,
Pretending I can't see anything,
No heart, no eyes,

Heatwave, heatwave,

Someone will ask, "Now where have you been?"
And in the silence, they might crack a smile,
Well, we all know that you're talented,
But you're dead, and I'm alive,

Heatwave, heatwave.