I am a plastic Siamese twin. A tyrant and a Taoist cleft in twain. A veteran verbal throat-slitter, who has seen too many years afield. A fledgling faithful peacekeeper who struggles with the state of the world.

I scatter black and white juju beads into the atmosphere, made of virtuous dust and grayscale dreams. They fall to the ground and become the bones of divination. I read the marrow on the sidewalk. It whispers of manuscript margins bound by narcissism.
I don't know which piece of me runs the show. A Matryoshka doll-turned-ouroboros of lusts and virtues and values.

11:00 p.m. - 2015-04-02