Activities of Silas Rosalie Dumont

He stands in the doorway but it's not rage in his eyes, it's a pleading. It's a wanting but he doesn't understand the extent to which I want it too and how still that really means it is so very much not enough. We could both want this more than anything else in the entire world but it wouldn't matter because it just can't be. Tearing at the strings won't put the whole back together. Pulling at the strings tearing us apart is exactly what that would be doing. Even worse it might not be that but instead be a slow decline the pulling of a thread in a wooden sweater and the slow but eventually evident destruction of the whole until there's nothing left of both of us but a pile of fraying thread because in the final moments we'll have tried to cut it all too late and of course will have failed leaving us truly one irreparable string at the end why can't he see that because I can see it I can see it clear as day and yet he doesn't understand me when I reel him could I be anymore clear I really don't think I could be and yet he continues to stick to the folly of believing in something that never was like Santa Claus or the Easter bunny or the goddamn Queen of England except she really was real but her immortality wasn't because that's a stupid thing to believe and yet some really did just like he now clings to the hope of salvation clinging to it even though he clings to his noose and surely deep down he knows that right I mean he's a smart guy so surely he must understand that this would be our undoing because of course it would be it's practically written in the stars like that fortune teller told me so long ago that started this whole mess and why did I have to believe her God I wish I hadn't I mean really who firstly consults a fortune teller in the first place and then even worse proceeds to take everything she says with complete seriousness maybe if I hadn't believed her we could've been happy maybe if I hadn't gone to her and heard her and believed her it wouldn't have been our undoing but now it very much will be all because I believed her but I don't have to believe her and that's why I'm calling a time out and I'm calling an end to the pulling at the sweater's tread so we have time to cut through the thread and maybe become socks or something I don't know I haven't knit in ages and frankly these technical terms tend to get boggled when I'm emotional which I am because I'm terrified all because I believed her do I believe her still I hope not because that would be awful and truly devastating to my life well clearly I don't believe her still because I see a way out and I still can see us both surviving this and not dead on the floor like she said we would be and oh god now he's begging doesn't he get it we're through it all started because I though he was falling out of love and instead of talking to him about my concerns like I should have I went to the fortune teller and she tried to damn is both to hell but at least I kept her within the bounds of dooming this love I mean surely there's life after this and wait what is that in his hand and OH MY GOD. He didn't. Oh but he did. And now there's a man with a hole in his head and I'm going to jail for sure because seriously the neighbours probably called the cops ages ago and if they hadn't they certainly would after a gunshot and now I don't have a life metaphorically speaking and he doesn't have his literally speaking so why not make it 2-nothing for our dear friend the fortune teller just put this gun in my mouth and goddammit he only had one bullet oh this is bad this is really really bad but oh thank the heavens today really is my lucky day because there's the cartridges in his pocket so load her up and hit the hammer and one two th-
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tonight is just one of those nights
where I lie and vaguely ideate
something around my neck
tightening
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Like the Fall from Eden
And the Fall from Heaven
Kisē-Manitow/Giiche Manito
casts down
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"The internet has made it
So friends suffer together now "
Is that a good thing?
"Who f*cking cares"
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You cannot eat a story
And yet on them I feed
You cannot drink a story
And yet they refresh me
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Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
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I am not against the God
but not a religious man;
Do the clashes we see in
the world in the name of God
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Do I know to play the guitar?
No sir, no sir, I do not,
But I don't think that as a scar
'Cause I play the chords of the thought.
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