October 4th, Year of Silence

If I’ve killed one man…

Roses have a distinct scent, preferred by many, abhorred by me. Multi-petal declarations of things that should be spoken. They are the steam-cleaned black suits of perfection. Never trust anything so obviously beautiful.

Thomas once kissed me under a lamppost. I am not entirely sure that’s a real memory.

As a child, I saved my pennies, so that one day I would have enough to travel to Pennsylvania, where vampires still hide and hunt. That is a real memory.

Jesus cast out seven demons. It must have been the wine.

There is no one left to blame. Hold on to me. I may be a broken branch from a gnarled tree, but it is safe to touch me.

October 4th, Year of Silence

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