16 THIS SENSATION COMES NOT FROM

I know I said I might try to post poetry again, and this time, I swear I tried my best. I sat down at my desk, pen in my hand, and paper in front of me, and began to write. I wrote:


This sensation comes not from


And then my phone rang. I answered and it was the same muffled crackling voice as last time repeating the name James. I made sure they knew I wasn't James but it just kept going on. I hung up. I had enough of weird shit for a while.


Ironically, my doorbell rang, and standing there was Kyle in his goddamn suit. He asked me if he could come in. This time I reluctantly asked what he wanted from me. He said he needed to talk, to which I responded that if he wanted to talk there was a good a place as any.


He agreed and proceeded to ask me if I've had any weird dreams lately. I said no. He then told me he knew about me knowing about him and the Afraid At Home channel. I asked him if it was real: he ignored the question and told me that I need to think harder next time and to not listen to the giant man with the red eyes.


I was speechless.


He turned around and walked away. 


How the fuck did he know about my dream from the other night? 


I returned to the desk where I tried to keep writing the poem I started, but instead I took out my laptop and wrote this blog entry. I think I'm knee deep in some bad shit.