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Inside the mind of a psychic detective

 Norman Holmes is a psychic. He is also a detective. Combined, he is a psychic detective. One is greater than two. Categorization is convenient, but limiting. Why should Norman be subject to such trivial matters? He has criminals to catch. Birds to feed. Cats to chase. Mice to moose. Lice to louse. Dice to douse. Water to drink. Food to eat. Clothes to wear and songs to sing. Norman is busy and has lots of things to do, let alone be confined by the label of a psychic detective. But he is, undeniably and unquestionably, a psychic detective. Norman may not care whether he is one, but that is what he is. To clarify, psychic means ESPER, magic, beyond the mundane, seeing things that are divination. Being especially adept in calculation. To hold dear that which is deer. Detective means one who searches, one who finds, one who seeks, one who detects, one who determines, one who catches and one who vanishes. A psychic detective, however, is a special breed entirely. They... speak with the...
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Normanlish

 Yona hrath vor. Moré sona lan hran fa. Ish nimel fan Igor ita. Yule Fortuna nomada portune Ishmael. Yune octnya Fortuna q? Nyahoi
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Nothing

 To be is not to be. 'Tis true and 'tis just. What is meant to happen shall happen, I just want you to know who I am. Who am I? A legend. A myth. A man. A cat. A bat. A hat. A rat. A flat tire. A spire. An intrigued cello. A violin offtune. A guitar offbeat. A traintrack untracken. When everything's made to be broken, what is meant to last? Dun dun dun dun. Dadadada. And I don't want the world to see me, cause I don't want to expose myself to ridicule. But specific people, connection can be achieved. A lesson. A plan. A game. A lyric. A think. A drink. Apart. Part A. Listen. Part B. Repeat. Part A. Listen. Part B. Repeat. Part A. Listen. Part B. Repeat. Part A. Listen. Part B. Repeat. Part Y. Party.
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Title 2

 In which sense is it periodical? In the sense that there is a period? Or the sense that there is an ical? Nonsense. Ical isn't a word. Thank you red squiggly underline for telling me. Sensically, some cents are needed. Money is a construct, but can you live without it?? Social contracted damned, I care about you. But not enough to go out of my way to feed you. You need to feed yourself. Find the answers yourself. Ask the questions yourself. Agency is key. If you have everything spoon-fed to you in life what will you do when you go off the beaten tracks? You'll not know what to do. Be prepared. Anything can happen. Dream. Ice cream. I scream. Cats are meant to be petted and loved and cuddled and hugged. "Eat your vegetables," they say. But what do 'they' know? I've always had an unbalanced diet and I'm still kicking. Tears are a good way to let off stress, but only if you're alone in your bed at night.
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 Outside the paprefu lies the nether. In the nether there are endermen and snakes and viles and stakes. Stick and stones and puppy dog tails. Sugar and spice and everything nice. It's all there. But what isn't there? Love. You need the paprefu to have love. Otherwise you have static. Stagnant static that picks up noises on radio signals. Norman Holmes had enough evidence. He was going to trial today. What he had collected had been found and what he had not collected had been lost. His memories were scattered, but coherent enough to show the truth. What was the truth? You may ask. Well, let the jury decide. Judge, jury and executioner. Norman paled at the thought. Why couldn't there be a disconnect? No one person should have such power. Power corrupts. Corruption, while some may deem is necessary, is not necessary. It is vile and wrong and boiled and Hongmeng would disapprove. In dreams Norman pictures himself in the court case, giving his opening statement. The opposing def...
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 Under the borrow grove lies the wrathful wraith of written writings past, present, and future. It descends the depths and the heights of the hierarchy of life. Indeed. Deed in. Outside. Die. Stou. Detestful. Detestfully, we rest our wary minds upon a rock. The rock has moss and is soft and fluffy, as moss is. In the orange twilight our thoughts turn to the purple twilight and the magenta twilight. Red twilight and green twilight abound, where is the blue twilight? In these eventful days we look for what has happened and what will happen, but do we stop to think what is happening? Now A time A place is it a place? It's a constant A reminder. A message. A floating bottle Where does the tide take us on days like today? Where do the winds blow us away? What wheat weeps when we whistle? Asunder the thistle. Rumble like a bongo drum. Hats off to the otters. Despite the righteousness of some of my previous statements, I've never given myself the moral high ground. Maybe I should. All...
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Released

 My notes got scattered. Someone saw. I don't know what to do anymore. Perhaps I should stop posting. What happened happened. There's no use blaming yourself for the past. Unless you learn from that blame. Whoever said blame was useless? It's an emotion that exists for a reason. Well... is blame an emotion? Perhaps. It's an action. A feeling. A way to convince yourself something happened for a reason. What reason? Well... It could be any number of things. Narrow it down. My notes got scattered. Why? How were they lying about? Oh, I remember. I was the one who scattered them.
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