The Interesting Night

Saturday at 2am I wake to the sound of screaming.
The television chatters, my parents scream and whisper.
A horrible ghost shudders and moans and tells me that I am the last one.
The last one.
I baptised a thousand times, and shuddered and sweat. Bled and moaned and loved and lost.
The songs that I hear, the people that I speak to.
It's getting a little tough to bear this right now.
It's always been too hard for me.
Perhaps I lived a little too much,
perhaps I smiled a little too hard.
I lived when people died all around me,
and all I can say is good job, Lynette.
You killed everyone with your laughter.