BattKattColourBlak

I don't know what I am I don't know what I'm looking for I don't know who I'm looking for Is it you? The one that stands behindbeside me? The one that sleeps in my shadow The one that sees and hears what I see and hear? What are you? Fuck fuck fuck fuck I don't know what I'm saying anymore I woke up one morning with the words 'Stay Awake' scrawled on the wall above my head I don't remember writing it I don't remember taking the pen in hand and bidding myself to remain awake Why shouldn't I have slept? Was it you? Was it you that did that? Did you make me forget? Or did you forget to have me remember? What was it? Are you re

"...hello?" My eyes snapped open as a soft voice echoed in my ear. The phone was pressed against my ear... I groaned internally. *Dammit; not again...* I cleared my throat. "S-sorry about that..." I yawned. "I sleep dial..." Shit! I didn't have to say that...oh, well... "I'm sorry to have disturbed you..." I glanced at the clock: 2:17 A.M. "I must've woken you up." "It's okay," the soft and somewhat raspy voice replied. "I wasn't asleep." "Oh." We both stayed quiet for a moment, though neither of us hung up. "So, um..." I started. "I'm sorry again...um...'bye." I moved to put the phone back in the cradle. "Wait." I paused, then broug

"You." Somebody grabbed Johnny's sleeve, causing him to whirl around. Lacey was giving him a scathing look as if she were trying to tear apart his innermost secrets. Which she probably was. "You and I still haven't had our little conversation," she continued, letting go of his sleeve. "I hope you did plan to eventually tell me, right?" He shrugged. "I guess I wasn't really expecting you to leave before you forced some sort of explanation out of me," he admitted. He glanced over his shoulder at the others, Laura still asleep and Mercedes chomping down at her ice-cream. Leah, of course, was with her sister- and newborn nephew. "Oh, don't w

Disgust. The sight of those...things...fills me with disgust. It's unwarranted, it trespasses into my mind without reason, something that's alway been a part of me for as long as I can recall any of my reactions with any lucidity. I don't know why those...things...disgust me so. I just know that they do. On multiple occasions, my friends have turned to me and asked: "Just what is wrong with you?" I cannot answer them. I can't even answer myself when I ask that self-same question. It's just that the sight of those...things...fills me with a deep disgust and resentment. And it's not just the sight of them that sets of the involuntary refle

The Games Once a week, every week, I guard a cell in Arkham. "Hello, Ms. Blue, welcome back." Once a week, every week, I play a game. "So, who shall start the game tonight, Ms. Blue? You...or I?" It's not an entirely dangerous game... "I suppose I'll start tonight, then..." Except, the one I'm playing with... "A man was to be sentenced, and the judge told him, 'You may make a statement. If it is true, I'll sentence you to four years in prison. If it is false, I'll sentence you to six years in prison.' After the man made his statement, the judge decided to let him go free. What did the man say?" Is the Riddler. I sat back and rubbed