Dusty ole Doll

Dusty ole Doll


Found this dusty little doll up in the attic, and remembered. Stories! Found them all crumpled, deteriorated, half moth-eaten, the fluff of her soul. “Let’s start this again,” she whispered, her voice tart and moldy.

I liked her.

“Sure, why not?”

I embraced her.

And then a silly thing. A weird thing. Unreal. It happened.

Perhaps she simply disintegrated in my grasp, but I could swear – I still feel the itch – that she diffused into my skin.

I feel different now. Confident. Inspired.

(Hell, I look different, too (see above))

Or maybe that’s just the irradiated half-caff, half-nuked, pure toxic get-up-and-go drink festering in my gut.

Whether or what, there’s gonna be some changes going on around this old joint.

1. I declare myself the dictator of my own realm. Muah ha ha haaaaaa

2. I declare a thumb war!

3. I do declare that I will post more often. Creatively. (Or not)

4. And I will try not to complain.

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