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Me: “Tweak! What did you eat??”

I am in bed. Tweak is sitting on my chest breathing at me.

Tweak: “Whatever nurdles you poured in my bowl. They’re shaped like X’s and pain.”

Me: “You love those nurdles.”

Tweak: “You feed me like a tic-tac-toe game.”

Me: “Your breath is terrible.”

Tweak: “It’s a game nobody wins.”

She yawns a cavern of death. Dreams die.

Me: “Maybe you should brush your teeth.”

Tweak inhales the nighttime from my mouth.

Tweak: “I also ate your soul. Maybe you should brush your soul.”

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14 June 2014, Tolerating Tweak — “My Soul Needs a Breath Mint”

Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison