Versions of My Mother. Versions of Myself. She'll Die in Three Days and I'll Freeze Into a Block from which I'll Soon Emerge.

When I was a boy, pink and white, I was her advocate.  As I got older, I was her protector, and sentinel of her honor.  That honor was born from a genetic axiom that boys don't understand, because it's their mother were talking about.  That's plenty.

I got a message from Emily yesterday.  She wanted me to call her.  I did.  My mother, she said, hasn't eaten since Wednesday.  Today is Sunday, so that's four days.  In other words, she's dying.

I put on WORAKLS, Joachim Pastor.  I sat back and kept the beat by rocking my head back and forth, side to side, perfect beat.  Like my head was dancing in the Underground.  Like I was on speedball, but sober.

I haven't seen her in almost eight years.  Almost eight years since the venomous fangs sank their poison into my world.  I should have been immunized.  After all, this was not the first time.  But, it was the worst.

'Hole things commin' to a head.  That what's happening.  Joachim Pastor is here for the event.  Crowded kay slayer. Slayer K.  Bleed.  It's good to bleed so long a you don't bleed out.  Bloody limitations.  Blood.  My blood is mixed with her blood.  I'm bleeding from my face. Spatter.  Patterns.  My mother is dying.  When will it say, "The End."  In France, "Fin."

I don't know what to do with myself, so I'll continue sitting.  Once upon a time hell came calling while I sat sitting.  So maybe this isn't a very good idea.  Glandular.

The human hands.  Goddamn!  What is the limbic system all about.  Ladies and Gentelmen, give it up for the Limbic Glands, singing their hit, Stinky Cheese.

Jeff and his family are there.

Jeff.  He has a different version of her.  But, my version includes his, too.  I'm older.  I've known her longer than anyone.  I get the questionably grand prize.  I just realized why Jeff went down.  For his father, Art, who must be a wreck.

I should be strong for Emily.  Must not let her detect the immense pain that I feel gathering below my feet.  Tectonic.

I should exercise.  Now!  'Cause I want a speedball.  I want a drink.  I don't want a drink.

thinkinboutallthisfucksmeupppppp

I cannot avoid this day, no matter what.

I bet her heart's still beating.  I am anxiety ridden on account of being told that her death is imminent.