Hell's Clarion

Author's Note: Hell's Clarion

They say that great authors maintain a state of starvation. It's in a guide to writing somewhere, forget where. Hell's Clarion is a collection composed while starving, laying around on the stiff white carpet of my first attempt to move out and getting to know the darker side of the human stomach pit, its surrounding organs, and rug burn.

I See Dead People (Below!)
Duck Hunt
The Queen's Croquet Ground
Return to Sender



I SEE DEAD PEOPLE

See. Because it's fucking tough to get one to date you. I mean, to a zombie I'm only a hunk of flesh. Braaaains. No, flesh (The love of brains is indiscriminate in the case of a real zombie, and believe me. All that matters is the quality of edible).

What happens next, Bruce? And if someone spies me talking to a dead person? Bruce? I'll tell them you're an imaginary friend. 100% idealism and wishful thinking. I can't hear you, Bruce, you're mumbling. Or are you talking at all? Loss of motor functions. Right.

The coroner and I—we share this love of cadavers. Mine's dying faster than the corpse on his table.

I threw my heart into a hearse last week and it's one aorta in the grave. Sorry.