There’s nothing more exhilarating

Than hiding in the closet

While the guards search for you, saying things like,

“Where are you?”

“Come out!”

“We’ll kill you when we find you!”

And the whole time I’m hiding in the closet

A cart stops and a voice shouts.

“Why are the gates closed?”

Through the rain warbles a distant response. It’s difficult to hear. The audio repeats.

“Why are the gates closed?”

An arrow sips through the air into the neck of the man on the cart. He falls off the side.

A hand reaches out from behind a barrel, and removes the coinpurse from the corpse.

“I’m trying!” shouts Garrett, to the inside of the closet

I’m trying I’m trying I’m trying

September has a mechanical air. September has a retreating edge. September has a hood over her eyes. September has a bag full of trash found scavenging. September has no concept of ‘too far’. September ate rat poison by accident. September wishes she had checked the map one more time. September talks to everyone on the side of the road. September lost her favorite computer file. September wins every game of Twister. September loses every game of Jenga. September is not who you think September is not who you think September is not who you think

Thief is an obscure video game that came out in 2014, was critically panned and commercially lackluster, and hasn’t been talked about much since. Well, I’ve been talking about it. I’ve been talking about it this whole time. I’ve been writing here for over three years now about it.

I…

I don’t currently have access to my sexuality. I’ve been moving, in my mind. And I put down a box, in order to place another box on top of it, to free up my hands to carry two more down the hall, which I dropped to answer the door, and by now down down down the hallway: Boxes. I try to open the door to my sexuality, and it just hits a box. I try to move that box to gain myself room, and it hits another box. I pick up that box, to make room, and now I can’t see the floor. If I were to move from here, I’d trip on the pile of boxes from earlier. So I set it down, and head back up up up the hallway and sit on the bench at the park.

Loose rope drifts forever down, falling past

Balconies and Vantage Points that peer further downward, falling past

Torches made from resin, then animal fat, then something never meant to burn, falling past

So much gold jewelry it would make you head spin, crushed under wooden beams, falling past

The alleyways never once patrolled, falling past

The mindless born from digging up a vengeful stone, falling past

The vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the cobbled remains of the vision of architects held aloft by the

Falling past

Like from a fountain, and on the other side

A spring. To waste not want not given only one direction

And instructions on the tail end. Regrets held

Chesthigh and fluid. Weaving a river out

And around my living room. And back to my bedroom.

And back to my living room. And back to my bedroom.

And back to my living room. How very bizarre and august.

A chest awaits an adventurer

Looking for a treasure to improve her equipment

Only this chest is actually a monster

And the treasure is the skull of the adventurer before her

May the Sunflower

Girl with needs and fears

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