We’d all love to believe we’re unique.
But strings are attached to everything. To everyone.
And common is not exciting…
I’d rather perform premature abortions into paper towels than stare at strings for thirty minutes.
The issue is that this is known by all.
So they lie. Say they have no strings. They’re snowflakes.
But when the want is strong, whether it’s right or wrong I turn Netflix on.
Wake up more tired.
Stare at dangling arm strings drooping over the side of the bed.
Say a lost cellphone lead to lost contact information when we cross paths.
It tends to take me a while to realize leftover strings were tangled around me.
They go unnoticed for weeks as I go about my day tugging them.
This is why lying is a sin.
Lucky for me, I didn’t.
Well, good luck?
There’s no guilt when both players agree to put all the cards on the table before the game.
When the other player holds cards back and still loses, it’s almost a karmic high.
It’s an ironic plot twist from their point of view.
Something I saw far beyond the horizon.
My days are spent with the devil’s dogs by my side.
Obedient, intelligent and above all else capable.
But even we’re bound by the law of demons.
And I uphold honesty above all else.
At all cost.
Regardless of who’s caught in the backlash.
Your spots aren’t my problem.
They’re not my imperfections.
Excuse me while I remove this garbage hanging off of me.