Norman

Sister, red is not a color
But more like a bird
Red is a bird
Like Mother is bird
And here in my head
Everything is a bird
Everything has blank, calm eyes
Everything is beautiful, but not enough to be real
Everything looks fine dead
Better, even
Sister, you're a bird.
You're red.
So beautiful.
Mother, how could you do this?
Nothing I have is worth it.
Just like I'm not worth it.
I am what I have, I am what I want
It's just red.
Jesus, the blood, Mother.
The blood.
Sister, forgive my mother.
She doesn't know
She's so all-alone up in her head
Up in that room
That house
That house that smells like
Smells like red. Like the birds that gather around it.
She's got herself in her private trap
She's clawing her leg off
Sister, she didn't mean it
I can't begin to...Begin to...
Mother, don't touch me.
You're all up in my head just talking, talking, talking
Chirping, chirping
I don't love mother. I don't love anything.
Everything is nothing.
Everything is a blank eyed, cold, stuffed-and-mounted-on-plywood bird.
Red. Like the floor. Like those hands.
Like mother.
Sister, you're red
Blank eyes, staring into nothing,
Like the birds around this place
That creepy smell of damp. Of cold.
Sister, forgive me, I love you dearly.
Lover, forgive me, my trespassing.