Shia

Written by Jacob Ibrag

Shia Labeof has been following me

since yesterday. Clapping every second

since we’ve connected. At first I was

alright with it, but he kept going.

Clap
Clap
Clap

Scratching my insides with this

barrage of harassment.  His face ever so

still as he unites his palms repeatedly

over my head as I try to go to bed.

I am frustration personified, slipping

through sanity’s slope and into

Hades scorching hell.

Clap
Clap
Clap

I don’t drink, yet I’m wasted. I’ve

gone mad. Jolting from my pillow, I

grab Shia by the neck and scream till

my larynx gives out. Spearing him

through the window as I wave goodbye.

Shia leaves forever composed, clapping

till the inevitable splat. Except he isn’t

bleeding forty stories below my feet, he’s

somehow standing next to me.

‘Can’t leave,’

he’s whispers,

‘you’re my

performance

piece.’

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Artist Unknown

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Here’s To You Shia Labeouf