Wicked Introjection

There are times in life when you're going about your litany like a pastor reciprocrating the will of a God he doesn't know 

and there is this elope. 

A break in incipit cracking the fine silk of routine you were so comfortable in to quander on other topics or things. 

And I know I'm not rebranding a Willstätter synthetic here, but at many intervals there is the cross of thoughts in my mind and I wonder: 

What makes a person? 

Is it the arrangement of cerebral cortex, 

pituitary gland development, 

limbic system's stroke over social coordination? 

I mean the clinical answer is yes, but that's like asking what people think when they die; you know they think something unless it's a Vietnam vet case where taking a step to piss in the wrong bush means your friends are gonna have to rind you off the trees after a landmine's autothysis turned your blood to lacquer. 

But even then maybe you still died thinking of how much you wanted to take a piss and be home already and whatnot. 

Truth is more complicated than reason. 

People are chains of events; recollections carnated in the mind that taut flashbang reactions into a doctor's well-rehearsed cancer diagnosis by exposure. 

I think first there is the biology and from there we make everything else. 

My point is what's wrong with Sandi, you know? And yes I'm aware that I'm scaring you by talking about Daria, but I have to ask where did God put the bullet in her life that makes all she have pale in the face of her sadism: 

Mother, father, 

brothers that often like to frame her patience with her open skin but with whom she can't say there isn't the weight of siblinghood biting her rhetoric to accommodate around something less cruel than sinking her teeth into her friends' spirits to taste the metal 

and tear. 

That she was born that way is the excuser's answer and the one she'd probably give. Because she was conditioned that way. 

Reality is a sad answer if you're lucky. 

Works: 

• "Her Last Words," chapters ninety-one, ninety-two, and ninety-three, by Sheila Wisz Ellayn. 
• "I May Go Pop," chapters four and five, by Tafka. 
• "Am I Employed Yet?" by Ulatekh. 
• "Jodie," by Ulatekh. 
• "Heavenly Wine And Roses," chapter nine, by Riotsquirrrl. 
• "Is It Adulthood Yet?" chapter nineteen, by Halliwell_P (Spanish). 
• "Secrets Of Lawndale - Lawndale Below, Part One," by cfardell_brenorenz29. 

News: 

• Immediate American need for Iran war fodder. 
• Disaac wants proof-readers for his work. 
• Tafka's fair-use exposé of plot scraps. 

Art: 

• A piece confecting The Beauty And The Beast over a Batman template, by Britabird.