25.7
She accuses me of being bourgeoisie with the napalm. I walk
around the room naked, breathing in her smoke. On the kitchen table there is a
sword and a bottle of red wine. Tonya is humming something from the Ramones. A
slow piano melody plays in the background; it is like someone forgot to turn it
off. Searching for the right chords to help us find our way among the
illusions. We need a new life, a new direction. We are leaving the mines and
feeling a little bit sick. You were so shiny and new. We are surrounded by a
sea of houses. The smoke rings break apart and turn into small demonic fingers.
They point at you and I, accusingly. It is as if they know of the great evil
that we committed against god and man. You are always sitting next to me,
smiling approvingly. We speak a language between each other without words. I
have started the self-destruct sequence. Let’s just press the reset button. You
have been stealing from the graves again. Someone had told me this as I stopped
to buy a paper. You said you were only breaking even. I’m sleeping in your
house with one eye open. Tonya has fallen down and I helped her up. I tied her
close to my waist as she wrestled with the parachute. We placed the knots so
carefully over you and we called in the ghost. We picked up your disorder from
the store. It looked so new and gorgeous. We took the gun and held it to your
head.
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