Lullaby

 

"Choose Your Poison," they say.

But how can I, when they all look delicious?

A foamy, strawberry milkshake with blended pillowy marshmallows is a sure way to die well.

But I'll take the tangy sweet raspberry filled chocolate, for that poison gives me the right vitality.

If you ask me, that can of dihydrogen monoxide is a bit underwhelming, but I can drink it afterwards to clear my palette.

And then afterwards I'll clear my stomach of these toxins with a cold glass of whiskey, next to that ghost that always hangs by the staircase. She always looked a bit dead compared to other ghosts, aren't they supposed to be scary? I hardly even notice she's there until I have that glass.

And then it's that lullaby.

The window her eyes lead to is the royal blue gateway to a far more desolate place.

She continues to hum to that dying star.

I can't bear to look out the glass, it's too bright.

Her eyes undeterred by the madness, she quietly keeps every moment to herself.

I go to the bedroom and fall sleep.

And then the eye of the star opens to watch over me.