If you want to listen, then come closer. It sleeps alone in June but in every other month it is awake and it talks in feverish buzzes and excited cacophonies. It likes fun facts, board games, and when you ask it questions about itself. Like a maggot, it knows everything, but it won't tell you anything true unless you crack it open because after all, it is like a maggot.
Your best friend! Its full name is Best Friend With Cakes but you may call it Steveley for short. Whatever you want. It is pillowy and sticky and poisonous and pink and dying, but while it remains, it is here for you. It likes birthday parties, goose hunts, mackerels, and strawberry-patterned socks. Its legs twitch and tremble like flimsy ribbons. Don't mind the flies.
Everything is inevitable. It's hurt and newborn and watering, weak, slimy divine splatter on the ground, alone forever in every star. It came here alone and will die here alone, and it knows this, it wills this, and it cries. Shedding its being with every fleeting moment, it warps, shifts, looks at passerby, yearns and weeps, it likes puzzles, clouds, fables, and eyes. Everything you love will ache in its image one day.
It's lady-like, distant giggles and echoing records that play softly like nostalgia. Screws litter its head, bleeding gashes eternal wounds but with mittens. It never stops dancing and it would like someone to dance with it. It's here now, if you hear train whistles, it's closer. It likes feathers, hats, antiques, and sour caramel lollies. In other lives it saw your dreams, so it's always in the corners you can't see, the background.
all images and whatnot are my own creations that are documentations of my own findings; all images on this site are licensed under CC-BY; use them how you wish, just please share what corner of the universe you had found them in (which is here)