I wish I could wait for eternity. But the delay would coil like a sleeping snake.
“Stop being paranoid,” I angrily whisper to myself, trying to shake away it's face. I find myself housed in the corner for another night. The two solid barriers behind me give me the feeling like it can’t touch me but it never works.
I wince as I rub my wrists, attempting to soothe away it's grasps.
“Colo, colo, colo,” I chant over and over. “Good morning,” I wheeze to prepare myself and then, the canopy of shadows broke through the window.

Another snooze has left me with not a single dream and the break of days’ ceiling was a grim countdown for yet another visit. Days seemed too familiar with each other and my isolation from the rest of the humans has left me bitter and flat. I don’t even know what I am anymore.
The stale curtains are my closed eyelids yet they are my best friend. “Good night, curtains.”I whispered happily. “Have you enjoyed your breakfast yet?” And the stretch of stillness that followed seemed to draw on until it came time and my back was as far as it could be into my soiled corner. “Colo, colo, colo.”

Every night I am reminded of my place and when we first met. Everything used to be so simple and clean, and light came from a large bulb right in the middle of a sky but, I think it ran away. Jim doesn’t like the light bulb too much, I believe because he only visits me in the morning when it’s the darkest part of the day.

He is a sinner.
I read in this book about a man and he helped people. Anyone who did criminal things sinned. And then there was the villain and his name was, Devil. No one really liked him so I felt sorry for him. It’s my only and favorite book. I keep it under a flap of wood in my corner, away from Jim.
All I can tell you about Jim is that, those three letters. Letters that writhe through me and nibble my throat. Letters whose eyes crave my words and a chance, and that’s all it takes. One chance.

I don't want to come out and play. I have Him. What else would I need?

I’ve only seen those eyes a couple times but each memory is cut through me reminding me each and every week of the day. Those slits of slaughter that stare and stare, paralyzing me. I can feel my nerves aching and my heart barely holding on.

I want to let go. I can't.

“It is all his fault,” I tell myself. My lips moving like leather snakes quietly preaching what I can’t understand. “Colo, colo, colo.” I whisper.
Whispering is safe. Very safe.
“It is all his fault, all of it!” And I fell asleep to my screams.


I used to write. I had many pens and pencils that wrote in black. I remember the white sheets of paper and the beautiful, pale blue lines. Before I was dehumanized. Before my corner was just a corner and the light bulb woke me up, not Him.

Before I was the ink.

My fingers were still and my eyes were closed, not the curtains. The moon looked like a sideways smile and everything in my little room had a shadow but me. I was strong and healthy and my pen tapped to a song.
Then, the bones in my fingers began to flush and a feline purr revolved around my ears as the liquid ran, streaming from skin to paper. The monster moving his pet.
A piercing whine that battered my eardrums, as that thing first spoke to me. That one loud statement that was uttered so quietly.
“Good morning.” he hummed.
He had made my own hand birth a perverted signature that stole all the light that was ever held in that room.




Ego Dues
Jim







His grin was just a single scratch that was curved beneath his eyes. No nose, no lips, no ears, and no body. My speech became Jim’s lone jailbird that day and all I could do was whisper and pray to Jim.
“Colo, colo, colo.”



All those days when the curtains rudely ignored me and birds would sing for me on the other side of my little room, everything slipped. All those nights where blood was the only ink and my screeches at the wall became whimpers, everything in my little room died.

And every night where I find my nightmares to be a delightful bliss, I repeat those three words from that three-lettered creature.

“Colo, colo, colo.” Three. Three. Three. And he spoke those words that slit the airs throat where my one chance used to croon.

“Ego Dues,” Jim repeated. “I am God.”

“Colo, colo, colo,”

Worship, worship, worship.