Saturday, September 4, 2010

Little Trinkets

Silly little playthings. Naughty silly little playthings. How they scurry away if there isn't a toy in the box for them. Pitter-patter away, like little ants, in every direction.

You think you deserve this? You truly believe you deserve my touch, my pretty little glances and smiles? You silly little thing. You are nothing more than a trinket. I say what game we play and what the rules are. I say. Not you. You silly little trinket.

You want to touch? You lie. You don't want to touch. You want to be touched. You want to be played with. And when one no longer plays, you hide, looking for someone else. You think this is the rules to the game. But no. I am the rules. I created them from the little voices. They tell me how to play and they don't like rule breakers.

I want to play a new game. I want to play the game where you get touched. With hot pokers and sharp instruments. I want to hear screams and see blood scurrying away from your form. Yes, yes. I want to play a new game with my little trinket. My silly little plaything.

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