January 14th, Year of Silence

The dead pollute the living. They are to be prepared, buried, and forgotten about shortly after, despite promises to forever honor them. I knew this, and adhered to it, to the best of my ability. So, I have no justification for my involvement with Joseph. The Corpse is a heavy load on my back. It is a heavy burden I carry from day to day. I worry, as his smile grows wide and constant. I lose sleep, as his eyes take on a sparkling peace.

One must not remain in a fixed position for long. It will leave a person at a disadvantage, as it gives others time to plan, to execute an attack. What is steady is soon inflexible. A thought that enters the mind, must be examined, and if of use, quickly applied. Run more than you rest. Walk to catch your breath. Never sit. Never lie, but if you haven’t a choice, do it not next to your enemy.

It is 3:33am. That exact time always catches me by the hair. And I say, Lucifer shouldn’t creep up on me that way. Not in this sad state. Face scratched by a nervous cat. Lungs heavy with sickness. A woman likes to look presentable when in the company of a man who has seen it all, including my bullshit.

I am a distortion, cake for a parched man, an occasional high-brow inconvenience on a low-brow, highly taxed vocabulary.

Joseph says, in that Southern drawl he picked up from being parented by the television set, I have done away with all other women.

Of course you have, darling. Of course you have.

January 14th, Year of Silence

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