Normal.hro
Is it normal to put on a sweater only to find someone’s cut holes in the tits and poured sugar in the gas tank of my hovercraft
Is it normal to see people sitting by complacent ponds and imagine an invisible hand tipping them forward or shoving them clear to the muck
Is it normal to imagine there’s a cave somewhere with the blackest dark only I can see through and to want to live in that forever and when I leave the cave the darkness follows me as an obscuring cloud and will I be able to buy groceries still with this cloud and will people leave me alone
Is it normal to wonder if we get further into space will we find a new form of cancer that’s worse than all the others on Earth and someone will say what kind of God would put cancer in space and then someone else will figure out that there really is a God and space cancer is the no-trespassing sign on his bedroom door and then if we didn’t all die right away we’ll feel spiteful enough to finally work together for a higher goal of killing God and taking his bedroom for ourselves thanks mostly to the ones who were infected with space cancer but mutated instead of dying a lumpy death and so were blessed with cosmic powers like energy hiccups and chest lasers and I was the most powerfully mutated of all except you
Is it normal to want the darkness of night to fall like black Tetris blocks to want darkness organized into black geometrics so I don’t have to fear its formlessness
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Is it normal to think back to that time in high school when I chugged a bottle of the grapest Dimetapp with cold pills and freaked as the floor sank, drawn into a black hole in the basement where a dark wolf stood staring at me from behind dusty basement toys and thought that space was finally coming to me and think how special that is and how that thought could wrap around me in a quilt made of time and the universe, an infinite warmth
Is it normal to see a bus full of kids pressing their faces to the windows and want that invisible hand to multiply to twenty and slap the windows and explode in a microsecond of light so they’ll always remember the mysterious phenomenon and have something that bonds them all together till their minds leave their bodies
Is it normal that when I look at you I think of sewing our sides together and never looking at you even if you beg or maybe we start hugging and never stop and we think this hug is all the nourishment we need while we thin then decay and people will assume our skulls smiled till long after death and that seems like an alright way to go
Is it normal to feel this buzzing in my skin and know it’s my telekinesis starting and it was just a matter of time before my real power came to me to help fuck things up or really just make up for the clumsiness that ends any dream of being an origami boss
Is it normal that when I see the high schoolers huffing in brown paper bags in front of my building I wonder what color of spray paint they’re using ’cause I’ve heard silver’s good and I bet I could help them huff better and we could trade comic books and I’ll be like the cool older brother till I have to tell them they can’t huff anymore ’cause they need a future and we’ll see who’s family and who’s getting robbed and smashed to chunky puddles behind the laundromat
Is it normal to know that when I shudder or quiver at the feeling of cold existence it’s because I am pregnant with something I don’t understand but can channel without end and direct to make my world no more than an imprint like Little Boy on Hiroshima
Is it normal that I wonder still what your power is and if its stronger than mine even though I know it has to be because I don’t know if it’s magnetism or gravity I’m feeling, but whatever the force, it’s suns beyond anything
Is it normal to wonder if your eyes will be brown forever, when they’ll dull, when their density will finally break down into your skull and your face into the box that surrounds you
Is it normal to think of this and only this for spans of time that must touch infinity in some dark and endless way that covers my body like an uncomfortable sweater and never lets me forget one of us will leave the other and I hope to everything it’s me
