Memory

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.

 

Love,

Jared

 

 

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Posted on May 11, 2017, in blog, Clock Block, Dark Comedy, Letter, poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Very nice post. I simply stumbled upon your weblog and wanted to mention that I’ve really enjoyed surfing around your weblog posts. In any case I’ll be subscribing in your feed and I’m hoping you write again soon!

    Liked by 1 person

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