there i was, way out in the middle of somewhere nobody cared enough about to name

the mountains are calling and i must go kill myself.

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brittle sherds and
shattered birds and
shells of every size,

everywhere.
this isn’t funny.
the scum of the earth is back in action,

the world’s worst species is here
to serve ruin to the world.
welcome to us, earth!

there i was, way out
in the middle of somewhere
nobody cared enough about to name, and

it’d been a good bit since it bit me.

which was good,
don’t get me wrong, but
it didn’t make me happy.

because i knew it’d bite again,
soon, and
i knew i couldn’t escape.

but hell if i wasn’t gonna at least give it a shot.
to hell with it, i said, and
so i grabbed this, and

i nabbed that,
though one-handed and
many-thorned, and with

throbbing hand to match the
pounding head and
sobbing soul.

i gave it a shot, and
there i was,
at the top.

you made it to the top!
congrats. you made it to the top!
congrats. you made it to the top!

i’m at the top.

but nothing up here
is really any different from
anything down there.

and up here,
there are some pretty good options.
hmmm… yep. you really could escape up here,

if you really wanted to. yep.
you could just take one step forward.
one step forward, that’s it,

and you’d never get bit
ever again,
forever and ever, amen.

so which will it be?
decide. make up your mind.
which will it be?

decide. make up your mind.
which will it be?
decide. make up your mind.

which will it be?
decide. make up your mind.
take one step forward,

or take one step back.
which will it be?
decide. make up your mind.

which will it be?
decide. make up your mind.
which will it be?

oh my god.
when will it stop?
shut up! oh my god.

when will it stop?
shut up! oh my god.
when will it stop? shut up!

oh my god.

when will it stop?

shut up!
please stop.

it will never stop;
it will always bite.

the living room is where it will end,
so we need to rebrand the living room now.

the living room is hereby now renamed
the dying room.

pillows and blankets lifeless on the ground,
an encampment of empty chairs, scattered

here and there around the room
to make room for

whatever it is you call this.
what you call this is,

not
funny.

this isn’t funny.

no. it’s not funny. when will it stop? never. no. it’s not funny. when will it stop? never. no. it’s not funny. when will it stop? never. no. it’s not funny. when will it stop? never. no. it’s not funny. when will it stop? never. no. it’s not funny. when will it stop? never. no. it’s not funny. when will it stop? never. no. it’s not fu—

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nemo sum
nemo sum

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