12 days and I cannot lie. Lie to me. Please lie to me. I did it on purpose and I rolled over onto it. I pushed it aside and I knew it. I knew it. That thing made me.
Nobody but me. I tore it apart, flayed the skin and ripped the flesh. I drank the venom and washed in the blood.
At the bottom of the pool I gave in and breathed in the serenity. Embrace the burn, the pain, the serenity is yours to have and to hold.
Drive on. Drive on through the smog and the darkness so bright, across the bridge and through the tunnel, I used to have a dream. I went there and I listened, but I didn’t know. I know now. I know that I beat it down and the obscenities flowed, water through my fingers.
I am not bitter. I rolled around and wallowed in it. I pushed and, frantic, the axe landed true. It wasn’t to be, it’s not my lot. It’s not to be, I’ll never have that. I know now. I’m okay with that. The laundry room isn’t as far away today as it was all those years ago. And I’m okay. What I want, I get, so I suppose I didn’t want it that badly. I never quite figured out how to quell the demon inside and I threw myself about, onto hot rocks, crunching, covered by a tarp.