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Jamison Bell Jan 2022
Until you’re declared the lord of all creation.
Give things the benefit of doubt to be something other than what you perceive them to be.
Jamison Bell Jan 2022
What am I
If not nothing
Am I what you see
Or am I what I see
Does it matter
And if not
Does nothing still apply

And

You were the love of my life
Right up until
You told me I was the love of your life
Jamison Bell Dec 2021
I’m haunted by memories
Ghosts of those I’d put too much faith into
Chain rattling, crimson lipstick wearing, hopeful spirits
They dance about the decrepit ballrooms of my dreams
Scrawling on the walls
“Ketchup isn’t for hotdogs, you’ll never matter, and *******!”
I’d be lying if I said I don’t get sad.
Then though.
I pour another glass of whiskey.
And she reminds me.
That the spirits are right
Ketchup does not belong on a hotdog.
Jamison Bell Dec 2021
Spending too much time alone with your thoughts
You start to wonder
Are you really that alone
It’s almost unfathomable
To think
That no one else is there with you
Quietly pacing the halls
Every fiber of your being wants to shout
“Am I really alone!”
But you don’t
Out of fear
Because the thought of hearing no one echo back
Well, it’s unbearable
To most
Some
Well some did ask that question aloud
They got their answer
They’re the ones
That never say a word
Walking by us in the shadows
Longing to comfortably slip into the void
Without so much as a whisper
Jamison Bell Dec 2021
What scares me. Is you feeling for one minute the way I feel everyday.
Jamison Bell Dec 2021
The coming years will stir my thoughts of now and then into a slurry. A tempest of fire in hues of lavender and rose, dusted by starlight and things left unsaid.

And that’s where I’ll find her. Dancing amongst the constellations of my dreams. Enveloped in smoke and ether. Distant and raw, drenched in the tears of the sun.

I’ll try to remember. I’ll claw and pound at the door to that memory. Screaming silently into an apathetic void. Until I fall breathless and the rains set in for the night.

This memory, this dream. This thing that never happened. Though my heart unable to accept what never was, will never know what could have been.
Jamison Bell Dec 2021
Merry Christmas Grandma,
Thought I'd fill you in on what's been going on here for the holidays. Since you can't be with us on account of you having your vaginal gout flare up again. Dad says it's just as well since you're not actually my grandma and really just some homeless lady I keep writing letters for. So I thought I'd huff whatever I can find under the sink and write you up.
Timmy had had another bad dream last night. He wet the bed and the Wolfhound that had been given to my aunt by her ex Snott, his name was actually Scott but he couldn't pronounce the letter c. Well it went crazy and killed Timmy. The Wolfhound, not Snot. My sister Tammy is pretty upset since his name had come up in her ****** Advent Calendar.
Mom took us by the prison last week to see Uncle Skinny. He's still in isolation so we had to yell at him though the drainage pipe in the back. Says he's doing well. Still eating skin every chance he gets but hasn't had a cigarette in four months. We're all pretty proud of him. We used a tent pole to shove some chicken skins through the pipe and wished him a Merry Christmas.
Our neighbors are having a dispute over Christmas decorations. Seems our new neighbors the Crowleys celebrate Christmas by going from house to house and screeching satanic verses into a megaphone whilst making their kids dance for nickels. Seriously these kids will not stop dancing unless you have nickels. Try throwing a quarter? Nope, they just dance harder. Nobody in the neighborhood is sure as to whether or not it's child abuse so we just collectively try to make sure we have nickels at all times. These people will just jump out of the bushes screeching and dancing. The other kids are afraid to wait for the bus in the morning.
Well in an effort to get them to stop. Our other neighbor begain having an affair with the wife in the schreechy family. My guess is he was going to blackmail her to get her family to stop screeching and singing. Well she ended up keeping the baby he knocked her up with. Turns out her husband is a cuck and into the whole thing. So now whenever you see them, they're pushing a stroller with his kid in it. His wife left him for her stepdaughter and they're making ***** films in Burbank. Daryl and I are thinking of trying to cheer him up by decorating his house for Christmas for him. We're going to turn a woodchipper towards his house and throw green paint and squirrels into it. Because he's always feeding the squirrels so we think he'll like it.
I found out what my friend next door is getting for Christmas. I saw his dad shopping for trampolines at the trampoline store in the trampoline district downtown. They have to perfect yard for it. They'll probably put it near the pool with the waterslide and the next to the rock climbing wall. Hopefully my friend will do more than just sit in his wheelchair and cry about it like he does every year.
Anyway. I should probably go clean up what's left of Timmy. I was supposed to do it hours ago but the dog has playing with Timmys corpse for a while. He shakes it around and flings it down the hall. Then he picks it up and runs around the house with it. Mom and dad will be back from their swingers party at the orphanage soon so I better get to it.
Tomorrow is Christmas. I can't wait. After I open my presents and have breakfast. I'm going to do what I always do. I'm going to stand in front of the Mosque and smoke cigarettes in a very intimidating manner. Once they come out to see what I want. I offer to scratch their ***** if they'll bring me some figgy pudding. It hasn't happened yet but I remain hopeful.
Have a Merry Christmas Grandma.
Love Billy
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