“Jesus God, what is it?”

Blasphemy score multiplier.

I meant to call the veterinarian, but then my ex-boyfriend called and then my unfinished story in the other room called, and I started looking at black lace dresses on Etsy, and I never got around to it.

This is a great line.

The artist was wrong. Destruction is not a form of creation, it’s the only creation there ever was. If I set my fingers to a keyboard and type, I must tip a needle back into my head and suck out the best part of hell. When I slept with the demon, I was knotting my fingers back until they broke, dripping with the cat eyes in the sink. That’s all it ever was: tearing down to search for the way in.

I like this passage. Perhaps it is the difference in form or tone. Not sure. But it stood out to me as a good description.

My voice the color of dead autumn leaves.

I’m not stoned enough for voices to have color. At least I don’t think I am. Trying it; trying it. Nope, nothing.

This is great stuff. I am somewhat sure I would enjoy it more if it were condensed, but I have a weakness for very lean prose. I’m not sure. There were times it lost me a bit but also times that really charmed me, and I would hate for the charming bits to be lost.