I am a unicorn.
You can tell I’m a unicorn from my tail
and my horn.
Also most horses don’t have pink hair.
I’m not trying to hide it.
It’s pretty obvious.
You don’t need to walk up to me and say, “Are you a unicorn?”
You know I’m a unicorn!
You don’t need to walk up to me and say, “Hey, you’re a unicorn,” either.
I know I’m a unicorn!
We unicorns aren’t stupid you know.
The point is, we can comprehend our own existence,
even if you can’t.
I talk about ‘we’ but I guess that’s a lie
I am the last unicorn.
And I am lonely.
All I want is to stick my horn into a girl
until I pierce an organ and she leaks treats like a piñata
but I can never tell if a girl is checking me out
or just thinking, “Look! It’s a unicorn!”
I’m not just a unicorn you know.
I’m a librarian too.
I may not talk a lot
but I’m a great listener,
if you have anything to say worth listening to.
It’s not that I need you to wow me.
I just wish you could look at me and say something other than “Wow!”
I’m so sick of people standing next to me, saying “Look at THAT thing”
as if I can’t hear them.
As if unicorns don’t have a history at least as rich as that of humans.
So yeah, since you insist, let’s talk about unicorns
but let’s talk about our culture.
Let’s talk about the origin of the word ‘horny’.
It’s a really good story…
Jackson Nieuwland is a unicorn.