Nobody owns Animal Crossing, Animal Crossing owns us.
It's 1 AM, paperwork's done
Thin strips of fun
And I bashed it all to the floor
Because there was no more.
My life was neat again, 1:30 AM it was
My laughter wore out, it ceased its applause
My eyes were bloodshot
Behind them, just rot.
I wrote the words, but I grew cold
Today, ink is old
I sought something bold-
The ink man doth hold.
The Town Hall's watering cans, I took them all
Though their original purpose was small.
Didn't require masterful skill
Didn't need you to kill.
The cage broke, I'm out
A lunatic scout
First I'd write in the dirt
About how much I hurt
There was no shovel, no need
If I didn't hurry I would bleed
Digging letters and dots in happy soil
The grave's inscription prepared through toil.
And an angry mole popped up, Mr Resetti it seems
He screams outside my head, but I'm in my dreams
Don't really realise
That he dies.
I think so. He stopped screaming at once
That my digging woke him, that I was a dunce
He was just screaming now
He was just screaming.
Maybe I killed him. That is my paw
Red
That is his eye
Dead.
My watering cans held the ink
The liquid vampires drink.
But I was close to the beach, and somebody had rasped
Kapp'n had seen, because Kapp'n had gasped
Probably sailed here as he wouldn't sleep
He's asleep now.
A boat sailed itself home
A headless turtle in the gloam.
I wrote a note for his family there, a nice little one
Pinned on his neck, said writing's not done.
I fill up more watering cans.
But the ink goes nowhere without paper, so I steal
Super T&T shattered, and the young Nooks squeal
Once.
I have more paper.
I have more ink.
I write, and stop. I've run out.
I don't pout.
I find more.
In Ava's house.
The chicken squawks- her door is gone
Her face is drawn
I demand more paper to use
And she hates to refuse.
I'm still under her roof
She wasn't aloof
I use my last pen, it runs out
But she's still there
And now she's not.
The watering cans are full. And I have paper
Soft as feathers.
I have the materials. I had the materials
Run out
They are made from trees, I slice them down
I have no axe.
And there's fruit. There's apples, oranges, cherries
Then there's the cores, the orange peels
Juicy sweet redness on my lips
And metallic bitter redness on my lips.
Also fish, which taste like something
If you can taste
Which I couldn't anymore
Despite the sea painted red
And I put the sea in the containers,
And squeezed lemons in my eyes.
Tell me if it hurts.
Still writing, that's life
I go where it's rife
The museum
There was no journey there.
Blathers was awake, greeted me
Confused little owl
Offered to show me the paintings
I made him his own.
Mona Lisa, Night Watch, The Milkmaid
I've never been interested in art
But now I am
I'm with my friends.
Death spells 'Death' on Sunflowers
As it does in my eyes
And those in future.
I'm outside perhaps
And Digby too
He was my brother
He was my brother
A brother that hugs me
Because he heard me
And woke up
But sleeps again.
He gave me warmth
He gave me love
I gave him drink
I gave him blood
He's my watering can
Squeeze to use
And it's very soft
His heart.
So I write
I have Digby
I have skin
And creative paws
And 5 AM, there's more villagers
And 6 AM, there's less villagers
And more writing
Creative writing
And 7 AM, there's the mayor
He wakes up
Unconvinced
Because it looks like my dream
And he stands in it
In the ink
It spells 'Death'
That beautiful word
The word is the doorstep
His house is last.
But he's mayor, but he speaks
That these acts are wrong
I don't understand
My handwriting is fine.
And he values paper and ink
Though they're replaceable
Tears fall in the red sea
And they smudge my work.
His only achievement is 'why?'
Why? I laugh
Paperwork is too small
Walking sheets are too tall
And I live on it
In it
With it
For it
My days are spent writing.
He appeals to friendship
He calls on reason
But I haven't written them.
Only 'Death'. Because it's an absence
That fills my life.
And now his.