how does it feel to be you?

you that is loved, beautiful, mourned. To be me feels weak, a liar, hidden behind silence she cannot control.

My selves have begun to hate me, and today Allie said, do or die. Do! I say, but she knows I don't mean it, and even if I did mean it I'd have to do it myself. Instead I murdered her myself, let her blood seep out my wrists, and don't know how to go back.

Because Allie is the self I was half my life ago, when I chose my path, and it was straight, narrow, expected to be smooth. So Allie is (was) somewhat of a fool, but never a hypocrite. She was my humour, wit, grace, kindness, affection. She loved everybody, but had no concept of what duty means, faithfulness, intelligence, or thrist. She ran to the goods, cryed for the unborn.

I regret her existence almost as much as I regret her death.

The others are cowering in the corners of my mynd, trying to pretend that they don't believe I've finally let the demons take over. They're right, but they will never say that to me. They miss Allie so much, she was the beautiful one around here.

I'm humming a sickening mixture of Jewel, Ani, Radiohead, and Sarah M. to myself. The singers inside dread the voice coming out, but it is really the best they're going to get this lifetime.

So greedy, you cannot see. Sarah? Screaming stop, screaming stop, greed leads away from what she would have wanted.

Good Thing She's Dead, She Will Never Criticize Me Again.

Not that she ever did.... Sarah is the hypocrite, the ridiculer, the one who pointed her fingers. So what if there was a demon in there? Allie & Kira & Rence & all the others hid him as best they could, and they knew what they were doing. Sarah, you only saw him when you wanted to. It could not have been her fault. Save yourself.

This is my song, but barely my words

(go ahead, ask me if I care, I've got the answer here, I wrote it down somewhere, from a great height, from a great height, how can I? how will I? e'er live with out you -pause- in the end, only kindness matters, god's hands, god's god, god .... -pause- my body aches to breath your breathe, your words keep me alive
he sends me little pieces of paper
i don't ask
i just wait
i just live, phone number to phone number
brushing them against my thighs
wishing I could
cry more and
care less
it's not fate, it's just circumstance, i don't fool myself with romance)

I don't fool myself.

Ha! There's no one else left to fool, after murdering your own. Fool, fool, you're the only one who'll ever believe.

Today I saw 5 police cars on the road, including one I passed, and one pulling someone else over. I found Glen's Holiday, but Glen was not there, but two cop cars were. I almost expected another drug bust by the time I drove past the Meridian Apartments, but apparently God thought 7 police in one day was as many as I could take.

Heard hope in the clickings of a drain pipe; thought they were your footsteps.

Or Alex's, he asked me if it had been a good day. Yes, I answered. Because that's what one wants to hear, and me saying, oh I killed Allie today, I didn't really want to, but she's better than I will ever be again, well, that kinda hurts, well, Alex wouldn't understand. Allie is the only one who would.

Good thing.

These days I don't really know the difference between good and bad anyway. Good is a backseat backbeat overblown virtue that means so little.

The greatest virtue is honesty. How can I be honest when I divide my truths up, stow them in pretty woven baskets? I don't label them, forget where they are, run in circles to find them.

I need more shelves.

I need a scribe.

Actually, one thing I am good at is being a scribe. I can read, write, and not think about what I'm reading. Damn. Wanna go back, wanna go back.

Rings around my ears, around your eyes, your beauty reflected in the only one I know yet more beautiful.

Good.

I like it that way.

I'll create a new me, construct a self I want, live in it for another half a lifetime.

Good.

Good.

It's what I want to live, but with losing Allie, I feel I have lost the abiltiy. Cry me a river of blood, well, I am. My arms won't stop, she was large, the blood needed to shed her may be more than I have. I'm poisoning the land I stand on.

I'm sick with my weakness, manufacturing another drama.

Allie is in her heaven, shouting down to me, glee all too apparent. "do you choose life or the symbol of life?" she asks, but it is a tired question, and not really myne to answer. I could shout back, "that's not the one I will answer" but she doesn't care, it's her eternal question now. And she wants the answer God would agree with.

God has it written, do not consume blood, for it is holy, the very symbol of life.

How many lives have been taken to prove the sanctity of life?

I would choose life.

Shed a tear or two, drove to Chippewa for no reason, past some friend's houses, noticed Elyse's garage door was open, and someone was up, curious at this time of day, drove and drove, whined, composed in my head, forgot my lines. Ran home to my cat.

But as for my part,
I have learned,

I cannot love and not attempt to own.

(and then god died)  ¶ 01:23