There are many houses in a suburbia.
Rows and rows of houses aligned like a doll-house.
It's a fiction manufactured by something unknowable.

My name is Susie.
Men garbed in white cloaks use me. I am transported from multiple houses at scheduled intervals.
They call me a sacrificial lamb and treat me as such due to my body, my tail, and something else.
Darkness consumes every part of this suburbia like a maggot infested corpse.
My eyes have adjusted but there are parts I cannot see.
Hills decorate the circumference of this vast plot of land and you can't see past them.
The only thing you can see is the moon in the black sky.
The only times I am able to see the moon is when I am not permitted to move, so I imagine reaching my hand out.
My face is nothing but loose sinew and rotting lascerated flesh yet I am still able to function.
I am not allowed to use mirrors to see myself but I know.
There is a sensory abstraction and hyper-awareness in my face.
They like to push things inside of me and laugh.
They draw things on me and around me and put me in places that are extremely tight.
They like to speak of time-travel.
I am not allowed to wear clothes.
They wear cloaks that cover their faces yet I know they are always staring at me.
The feeling is over-bearing but it doesn't matter anymore.
There is no home.

Would you be my friend if you could?