Free and Fancy

horror, poetry, prose, writing, art

I want to be free and fancy. So paint a picture of you and me.

Free and fancy,

that’s what I want.

Paint me like one of your dead girls.

Paint me like one of your dead boys.

Charles,

I want to be free and fancy.

So paint a picture

of you and me.

There now,

that’s not so hard now?

Well . . . that’s just fine and dandy . . .

Because you’re dead. How

could that be?

Does this mean that you’re fancy and free?

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