10:14 pm - September 12, 2004
Ghost of Jacob Marley
You're like a screen-saver in my brain. I keep running anti-virus on you but you won't go away.
Popping up, in the background, with no consideration for what else I might be doing.
You're not so special. What gives?
I don't even know you.
I probably wouldn't even like you if I got to know you now.
Probably had to invent a decent, bent, twisted sense of humor, for you, too.
You are a figment of my imagination, a testimony to the fairy-tale powers of chemical reactions and synapse-firing.
Bad penny, you've been gone from my thoughts for a while.
Why give me nightmares now?
�
�
