It has begun, the cycle has started and the worms rear their heads in anticipation... what we were is past and that which comes next is now. The snake sloughs it's skin... the rodents prepare the nest. The hole goes down, down, down... did you leave the trail of biscuits?
Dear 2003,
It was me... all this time. When we met in confidence to uncover the secret betrayal with ritual and magic... the cards told the truth, it was my split tongue that altered it's voice. It had become an obsession, the chase and the collections... a ravage hunt of lust and delicate fibers. I placed your hairs in plastic tubes... locked away where the blood should be. One for the head and one for the waist... harvested from the nesting place of my mouth and face. The cotton formed fields of pleasure and a bed for me to rape... over and over as I inhaled your essence and feasted on your honey and milk. It became a religion... a way of salvation and dedication. The cost was flesh... skin for skin. With so many in my grasps, an army of a hundred or more... I named and treasured them all. Never to be soiled or altered... they nestled closely to sleep, wrapped tightly in sheets of plastic, as the drawer was replaced with cardboard. You tried to end the madness, but I thwarted your every plan... I rescued them from your floorboards and constrictive bindings. They needed air... and for awhile, I felt as if they needed me as much as I needed them. But you see, it wasn't just the family I raised from nothing into a vast fortune... it was you, it was always about you. Every time another came home and added to the colored field of cotton, through their labors and offerings... I was one step closer to you. Another piece had come home and you were that much closer to my bed... the hunger burned deeply and the thirst could not be satiated. I am sorry to have waited so long for the truth to be told... I was sworn to silence and paid for my vows with blood. But it was you, all this time... it was always about you.
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