Monthly Archives: May 2017
You haven’t been careful and I don’t want to have to remind you about the correct procedure. There is only one rule for what we do.
Stay unattached. When you get attached, you get sloppy.
I’m not bailing you out again and we both know Jarred is not in the picture for now. Let’s meet at the club on 42nd tomorrow night. I’ll show you the chase and feed again.
Asthma is not your friend, Jared. She will kill you, if you let her. She’ll take your mind first… maybe you want that…to be with Libby or whatever.
Right now I’m all you have. Let’s figure this out before I change my mind and head to Seattle early.
I like writing you. You don’t give me a hard time for who I am or what I have to say. We get each other. We understand I can’t help myself and unlike Jared we’re strong enough to face Asthma. We’re smart enough to ache with her until she’s over. I am patient with myself, so I fed all day yesterday. The flavor was everything. It filled the black for the first time in a while. We’re getting close. When we’re free…we’ll finally find a new Libby. The warmth hits my throat and reminds me of her. I’m glad she’s dead but I still miss her.
Asthma is a good wife to me. She takes me places no woman has dared to go beyond. She makes me want and helps me remember to forget.
Jarred. Auntie. Mr. Ashley. Libby.
All of them are ashes in the dirt and dust in the air. I don’t walk or breath with Asthma.
We live. Tonight we’re going to drip again. I will fill her until the burning fades and I become numb from the cold.
To My Truest Self,
We did well. Asthma has her sweet relief, when the warmth pulses on us. A warmth so hot it chokes the burn in my chest and numbs my emotions.
“Show me where you want it,” the whisper tickled my cheek. My finger traced along her jaw and across her collarbone. Each button fell apart at every press until the fabric slid off her shoulders. The skin over her rib cage sank deep like lines etched on a wall for the minutes not lived. Scars were painted tallies for attempted escapes.
“I prefer surprises,” I said. Our fingers intertwined then locked as rough and smooth rubbed together. From back to belly and gripping to slamming her nails clawed the paint. My sweat rolled down the nape of her neck. It ran cool on her chest and leaped from her skin upon thrust. We convulsed.
The hot air in her throat turned cold beneath my knuckles. I kept pushing in the cold rawness as she bled on my numbness. I wanted it to hurt but it wouldn’t feel. I sucked her juices from my cuticles but I couldn’t taste. The empty is too deep. Asthma… needs more.
We’ll always have each other. Jarred is hiding from Asthma hoping she won’t snatch and drag him into the Garden.
Myself knows better than to run from me. I was taught to chase. We are driven to eat.
Cheers to another pretty young babe dripping down my neck.
Growth…that’s what you’re calling it? I slave over these letters to remind you of your roots…and you insult me with growth! The only thing different about you is you’ve gotten better at pretending.
I’m real because I feel with my eyes open. I smell with my nostrils flared and grab with both hands. You do hate yourself. That’s why you coined yourself a “mannequin”, remember?
Only you can dress the New Jarred. The old one could move on his own and didn’t need clothes. He was unattached to this world.
My Brother knew Asthma; its grip and how it makes you starve until you become another man. The Old Jarred knew Asthma’s empty.
Right now you’re pretending, because somewhere along the line you got guilty. I’ not worried about you, though. I tried for you. Asthma’s attack will rip you, I’ll be there with the stitches, and you’ll remember. You’ll get it.
Until then…this is a real farewell to the fakest version of you yet.
You are relentless trying to fool with me. It doesn’t matter. You had run out of blows when you mentioned my unborn child. Taunting me with the former love of my life was only for your pleasure.
You’re right, Jared. Don’t get too smug yet, read the rest of the letter.
You’re right; we are alike in a lot of ways.
- Food-driven animal
- Emotional addict
You’re still wrong to think I hate myself for who I am. Unlike you I’ve grown through my pain far enough to accept myself. You pretend to cherish all of our ugly moments as the highlights of our brotherhood. Feeding on your own misery is a suicide recipe. I finally left the kitchen.
Whatever you want, Jared…I don’t have it. Libby didn’t have it either.
I don’t want to hurt like you or suffer like her. Be a hero for yourself, Jared. Please set yourself free.
My Dearest Brother,
Expect to watch me die. I know from being alive that you won’t give me the dignity of even opening my suicide letter. Forget my…
desperation for love
…appreciation for dust and ashes
…predation for whatever breathes. You’ll see prettier things in your dreams. In that blank space there is no day or night, just sweet escape from reality.
Here lies Jarred, the naked mannequin and brother with the saddest story. My feelings are the truth that won’t let you free. I’m tired of Lonely. Please, brother. Share this memory with me.
“Libby. Libby! LIBBY!” She laid cold on the kitchen floor. You pulled her head onto your lap and cradled it. The way your wails reverberated around the room and pulled hot tears down your face didn’t compare to the sweetness I was sucking from my cuticles.
“She’s better now,” I said, but you kept rocking back and forth. I licked my last fingertip. “She was miserable. Now she’s free.” You froze.
“You’re an animal.”
“Aren’t we all,” I asked. Be honest, brother.
You’re just like me.