I fear it.

I embrace it.


I let it keep me up at night.

I poke at it with a stick.


I get skeeved when I have to

touch it and pull out an

old pair of pajamas to

wrap up my rat

and bury



I abhor it.

I adore it. I really

don’t adore it I just

liked the way it



I hang doll

heads from my

ceiling fan a

shrunken skull from

my rearview



I want it to go away.

I make it come

for bugs.


I let it sit there on

the porch I

shoo it with

a swatter.


I try to tell myself it is

the ultimate spiritual

experience and there’s no

way to get out of it yet I




freak out to think

I may one day

not be me. I



cute little


on tricycles.


Ryn Gargulinski, 05.01.13