Tuesday, January 08, 2008

el arbol.

we both took things from him.
hers are just a bit more worn on the outside.
the alcoholism the blind fury.

i've got little bits of his hidden psychoses.
the ones that are there for minutes at a time when he talks to himself, circling the kitchen. the ones that make him thrash in his sleep. whatever it was inside him that made him say, "the family that kills together, dies together. and they all get into their little black moods."

it'd make me fear him if i didn't go there myself, sometimes.

and i know when She passes, most likely from lung cancer or emphysema, he is going to go into a fierce plummet. there will be darkness and there will be blindness. we're all going to go down.

let's not talk about this again.

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