Friday, February 9, 2007

baby the rain must fall

Tonight, the great need rose to build, but to build, I must be alone, and I did not wish it. But the darkened moon was far away, and the demon I loved I was still wary of, and I did not wish to build near the people to whom I spoke.

It was a dilemma.

Last night, in an excess of desperation, I took the Russian home from the saloon. At first I thought I was too damaged, not stable enough, to share with anyone, was slow, it was steady, and he wasn't dead at the end of it. That was healing.

Then the white tiger met with me, and it was short, far from sweet, and still he did not expire at the finish...and neither did I...and that was even better.

I'd been wearing bandages for most of the evening, the last evening, white bandages that were startlingly vivid against my deep black fur, and stained with red in spreading patches. Part of me found that only appropriate--for isn't it true, prick the one I love and I bleed?

Well, my claws pricked. So I bled.

And I finally found my next form.

Patchwork has a face.

The only problem is...I can't wear this skin. Something about my energy in it...where I bought it, I literally had people drift close to me, see me, and turn and stumble away. That's...not the best sign.

Tell me exactly
what am I supposed to do?
Now that I have
allowed you to beat me!
Do you think that
we could play another game?
Maybe I can win this time?
I kind of like
the misery you put me through.
Darling, you can trust me
If you even try
to look the other way,
I think that I could kill this time....

--"The Game", Disturbed

But I'm getting better.


Day by day.

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