Alexithymia Before Fate

I have eyeballs on my finger tips. Seeing everything of nightmares realized. I am a million demons. I follow t-rex tracks. Nobody can stop me. My head is covered in dread-locked feathers. I hunt apex predators from mack trucks. I’m a f*****g redneck in the form of a ghost. And I am the tulpa of the beast. I obey her only. She summons me when boys say hi. I am a brother. I am like sand that burns into glass.

Hop-hop like a mop, the barstool came along.

“Hi,” it said.

“Of stories rumored here, I hear you are friends with Beautiful Travis the Pirate.”

“Say I am, what’s that worth to you?”

“Perhaps a trade. His a*s for another.”

“I like his a*s. Who could ever replace him?”

“I own a billion slaves, so take your pick. Perhaps Mutus the Gladiator. Or perhaps the peripheral edge of a swamp, or an ampersand or a doppelgänger of myself. I own many things. I am a mind.”

“I can not trade. Travis is sacred. I fear he could kill us all. Have you not seen his bladed wings?”

“I hunt dinosaurs! I eat their genitals too! No living thing save god can stop me!”

“Then you haven’t met Drunk Travis the Priest. He’s the saint of alcohol and dirty thoughts. His a*s comforts me, I do not want for nothing.”

Then a halo’d pterodactyl appeared and swooped at this fiend of name by I. The ego’s me. Red wine dreams appeared and all the world became blurry like blood. A phantom guitarist played the blues. Caffeine rivers gave shivers to local girls. Small towns grew.

“For Travis the Angel, I will defend with my life of which I’m a barstool-friend, choose your weapons soon for we will fight the best of three duels!”

“For battles like fate I will cowardly exit this situation and summon instead a drug-addict with patience. Evil pretends to be good in the world. You’ll all die before you repent!”

“Travis won’t lose to none of yous, a legion of laughter, he’ll pretend and manifest thoughts like a djinn. I am his barstool! Drugs addicts are sin! You begin the first shot, I will stand against you!”