
I saw the bee.
I called the bee.
It stung me. It died.
Crow ate the bee; he flew up high and shitted into the left eye of your new bitch.
I don't write. I create.

I saw the bee.
I called the bee.
It stung me. It died.
Crow ate the bee; he flew up high and shitted into the left eye of your new bitch.

Unique has no one.
All she has is a diary, a pen and an idea.
Unique has no one.
All she has is that foul ball of feathers.
That rotten shadow of evil.
Unique is pathetic.
I mean, who do you know hangs around with birds?
Unique is useless; all she does is post a poem a day on WordPress.
But who reads her shit?
Unique is a stupid bitch.
Beyond the rants of hidden figures, a lone crow waits in silence, all you hear is his tiny heartbeat. His sapphire blue eyes twinkle outside the bedroom window of one. With his beak, he cuts through the double window pane. The occupant throws a copy of Birthday Letters by Ted Hughes at Crow, they shake and explain, ‘it’s all for social media! I do it for likes! I love Unique, I do.’
Crow glides across to the occupant’s desk and states, ‘only the unbelieving would be so ridiculous to make such comments.’ The occupant apologises profusely, but Crow proceeds to prove his point.
‘Unique has me!’ Crow declares as he slowly carves around the iris of the lone occupant.
‘Unique has me!’ Crow whispers as he jabs deeply into the inner thighs of the occupant.
‘Unique has me!’ Crow sings while scratching the knees of the occupant.

Sing sweet nightingale sing.
Ssh!
Crow prefers silence.
I warn you. Crow does not like sweet sounds.
Quiet silent nightingale.
R.I.P

I’ve always wanted a boyfriend.
Yes, a boyfriend. Just one.
I get one.
We click.
Something and something.
We split.
But that’s not the end of it.
He wants to come back.
I say, no!
I say, maybe?
I say, yes.
Sex takes me out into our universe.
You are my universe.
I love our universe.
You fill only 70% of the void.
I need another.
Boyfriend.

You think about me.
You think about me.
You’re tempted to text.
You’re tempted to call.
You daydream about me.
You dream about me.

I want to fly far away.
I want to go.

You arrived at my house in your animagus form. I can’t disclose what that is, as I know they will search for you.
You press your lips onto mine. I feel the transfer of nerves interrupt my chilled vibe.
Why are you so nervous?
I bite on your lower lip; I love kissing you and need to show you how much I’m in control.
Hours pass the both of us.
I wake up alone.
I once feared I would never see you again, and today marks that starting point.

Read more of this content when you subscribe today.

Crow bought home a large box.
Added his homemade bagels to the box.
Sprinkled herb crust in the box.
Hopped around happy by the box.
Screamed at the box.
Rubbed on the box.
Purred by the box.
Confided some wet dreams to the box.
Added his shit to the box.
Laughed at the box.
Then stared at the box, until it caught flame and burnt down to nothing.
He explained, ‘Unique, I needed to clear my mind.’
I couldn’t shout at Crow. The box was pink, who likes pink?
Once the ashes had cooled down, I swept up the remnants of the box, scattering them into my velvet blue Dulux Box.

Crow Said YES
It was Sunday 23rd of February 2020 at 11:11 I discovered Crow could read minds. As he flew above me, he seemed quieter than usual. More focused.
I called up.
He flew down.
Landed on my right shoulder and said, ‘Unique, listen!’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Look at that fat bitch selling to that weird bitch.’
‘I’m looking.’
‘Can’t you hear them?’
‘Their mouths aren’t open; she looks like she’s browsing.’
His sapphire blue eyes stare intensely into my big brown eyes. He watches another person and then looks around.
‘Ah! I’m the chosen one.’
Crow sets off into the sky above and circles everyone as I walk by.
Can I short-change this blind customer?
Are Vegans stupid?
Does eating take way make you fat?
Can you cheat and not get caught?
He doesn’t wash, does he?
Crow, in delight that he can hear thoughts, shouts down to all.
YES!
YES!
YES!
DO IT!
YES!

It was delivered at 11:11 to my penthouse apartment.
I received the box and felt a sense of unease; it was blue, my favourite colour. But you never knew this, no one knew.
The box was velvet, which is a texture that makes my skin tingle. I hate it.
I sign for the box. Unique Dame.
I open it up and there it is, you did it.
I can’t say I’m proud of you. I wish you would leave me alone.
Well, leave me be. I’m happy.
When I said, I want your heart, not your money – I never meant your actual heart.
I assumed you were non-committal, and it would encourage you to disappear.
Crow had warned me months before, and he said: ‘Unique, your use of words can confuse the average man.’

Read more of this content when you subscribe today.

Read more of this content when you subscribe today.

I accepted an invitation to your house after lunch. You told me you lived alone. You simply said, ‘you can come to mine while I grab my charger, I’ll drop you home on the way to university.’
I remember feeling a sense of unease as we arrived at your front door and was greeted by the clear sound of a dog barking from inside. ‘Don’t worry,’ you remarked, ‘Scooby won’t do anything, he’s harmless.’
After entering and taking Scooby out into the back garden, you returned and welcomed me in. I hadn’t intended on taking so long to enter, it was merely that my shoes were being held back by a sticky residue that appeared to cover large areas of the Living Room.
I looked down and saw what looked like a drink had been spilt weeks ago and was ignored. Keeping a fake smile on my face, I took about a hundred mental snaps of the sticky stuff that had meshed itself onto my Adidas branded trainers. How deplorable!
‘What would you like to drink?’
‘Nothing, thank you. I’m alright.’
‘But you said in the car that you were thirsty?’
‘Oh, I’m alright. I was thirsty, but I’m okay now that I’m indoors.’
‘Are you sure? I’m going to grab a drink. Take a seat, we can chill for a bit before heading out.’
You motioned to a mountain of stiff clothes and bitty newspapers. I walk nearby but remain standing. Then I spot it, the brown blob near the fridge, a large brown pellet with like black/green moving dots on them.
It’s shit! You have shit on your kitchen floor, right beside the fridge. The fridge you’re opening and seemingly oblivious to the flies that are feasting on what I imagine is the overly nourished bodies of maggots, bugs and possibly a microscopic creature we’ve never even heard about before.
I notice you down your drink directly from the bottle, place the lid back on loosely and pop in back into the fridge.
‘One minute, I’ve just got to run upstairs and grab my charger. Help your self to fruit if you like.’
‘I’m alright. Thank you for offering.’
I glance around and see the following images, that I know while reading you’ll find shocking to even believe.
My stomach churned, bubbled and on no, I threw up on the stiff pile of clothes. I go running out of the house, but the dirt is ripping my ankles. It takes me a whole 92 seconds to get out without brushing past anything. I get to the end of the drive, inhale and throw up once again.
I turn around and look up, at the window staring back I see The Dirty One. He’s smiling and waving his charger.

Read more of this content when you subscribe today.

I saw the moon.
The stars.
The light.
The sun.
I saw your life, the moment life begun.
I never feared your growth from within.
I scorned the life that society places us in.
Way back then I saw the sun.
The light.
The stars all around.
The moon.
Shining intensely, deeply into the ground. Where you rest in peace.
Forever.
Crow.

I told you I loved you because you hinted on many occasions that you wanted me to.
It was simple.
Cover lips in Ruby Woo lipstick by Mac.
Look deep into your eyes and mouth, ‘Olive Juice.’

The missing snake who was once employed by tellalie.com has been found!
It has been reported that although she remained in a suit. Her head had been removed, with a slow, deep cut to her neck. The killer chopped her tail off and shoved it down her throat, into the cous cous filled cavity, her stomach.
Her suit was grey with black trim, and a stain of instant coffee on the left lapel. tellalie.com has minimal standards for their kind of employees. Her footwear was open-toe sandals, tan in colour, it was summer after all.
We’ve been advised that the authorities have spoken with a key witness, who stated that she had witnessed the entire murder. We managed to catch up with her when she left the station, and after all that she said:
Interviewer: ‘Thank you for agreeing to speak with us. It is such a tragedy when something so horrific occurs in our community. I understand that you are in shock and processing everything, but could you tell us what happened here?’
Interviewee: ‘Well, what I saw was a snake in a suit have her scaly head sliced off. I mean, she wasn’t the prettiest of snakes and, well. She did work for tellalie.com, but she told LIES!’
Interviewer: ‘What do you mean? Surely you don’t believe that anyone deserves to be treated in such a manner?’
Interviewee: ‘So what you’re saying is, those who tell lies don’t deserve to die?’
Interviewer: ‘Excuse me?’
Interviewee: ‘That fucking bitch ass snake told a fucking lie and has been blessed with death. Yes, she deserved to DIE!’
The interviewer looks nervously into the camera lenses and then over to the Cameraman. Before mouthing ‘Did you have anything to do with this?’
Interviewee: ‘I saw that the killer used a knife they stole from that kitchenware shop on the Highstreet. It was lime green in colour, and I’m sure I spotted remnants of mushroom on the tip of the blade. It was a beautiful death.’
You’ll say this, and you’ll write that. You’ll cry insanity and parade down the anxiety path.
You’ll hiss, and you’ll slither.
You’ll hope, and you’ll craft, you’ll scheme and you’ll plot.
You’ll never cross Unique again, for your status has been updated – ROT!
You must be logged in to post a comment.