The heat inside is directing my course. Somewhere, there is a list of all victories and defeats. Do not be fooled, there is always someone watching closely. Doing what feels right in the moment, is not enough. Time passes, while a foolhardy action’s mark, forever remains as an unsightly scar.
I complain that nothing has life, then I watch its decomposition.
“Even as you look me in the eye, you will never be my equal,” Joseph screams to his Bride, outside.
And I laugh. Oh, how I laugh.
What things we have learned from each other. We repeat what the other once said. Then, comes the guilt. I wrote The Bride the following:
I know you must have a low opinion of me. This will not stop me from telling you that Joe is, fundamentally and systematically, a liar. You are not an object to be kept on display, out of mere fascination and obsession. You are not a child to be screamed at, and disciplined through corporal punishment.