“Its very unfortunate, my definition of virus seems to differ from the rest of the world. It’s difficult to explain. The unfortunate part is for the world. I am perfectly happy, boundless, free. It’s a shame, but to speak frankly, I couldn’t give a fuck. It’s a damn shame! Surely. But it isn’t my fate. Nor is it my responsibility to save. Your sickness is a mental state. A state of mind is murdering the masses, is what I think. A silent sadistic fate.” The woman is staring at me stupidly. She doesn’t know what to say. She never knows what to say. I suppose I am taking myself home tonight. I cant seem to keep my fucking mouth closed for the better part of a dinner party to land myself a date. But, honestly, I’m tired of shoving my truth in the darkest corner of my room and walking out my door without a voice. I have to take them home eventually. If they want their tongue lapping up the mess they’ve left on my inner thighs, than they’ll just have to be star struck by my mouth from the start. I know whom I am searching for now. I cannot be lost, almost always alone, but never lonely. And never bored. She’s intrigued, but also terrified. She moves around the table and stands before me. I continue, without needing her reply. “Synonyms are very important. We aren’t paying any attention to the details. The most important pieces of the puzzle are hardly hidden. Everything is in plain sight. For fuck sake, you are speaking it aloud! This is the story. It is what you say, not what you read. Be careful child, every word that you utter is your reality in the creating. Virus and fear, these words could not exist without each other. Synonymous. One-in-the same. Sickness is the body in communication. Cancer: no thanks, that aint living; try again next time. You’d do better to move like a child. You’d do well to remember. Your nature will not be suffocated forever. Eventually the body will eat you alive in hopes of reviving desire. Betting on you to remember. What are you afraid of? Dying? Killing another by sneezing too loud? You cannot die but by your own hands. The only threat to your life is fear; this is inclusive to every disease. Every viral infection is a story. If you aren’t the original writer, you must not play along. You mustn’t read outside of fiction. Don’t believe what you hear, not even me. Especially not me! Your senses are limiting. Be careful. What you choose to believe in is but another form of manipulation. Choose nothing. Move on your voice, nothing else. Rely on touch alone. Move on intuition: follow your gut. Have faith in your body; nothing else remains. Every organization manipulating the individual body of health goes up in flames! No medication is ever necessary again. Take your prescription and shove it up your ass, through the tip of a needle that you claim as the cure. Healing is the connection of body to mind, a single breath answers agony. Fear dissipates. The body regains its invincible state of existing and it’s limitless strength. What do I feel of all this? Are you sure you want my truth? Well, there you have it little lady; I think that it’s a bunch of manipulated idiots devoid of their own spiritual nature, performing like sadistic shits, on a stage set for the greatest war, that not a single one of them will see coming until they’ve eaten each other to the bone. They haven’t put a gun in your hands, so you remain oblivious, comfortably numb. You learn to smile at strangers with your eyeballs and think, it’s simply a matter of defending yourself. Lock your door and cover your disgusting mouth babygirl, the danger is everywhere in this sickening world of your own creation. The war has only just begun. I wouldn’t fear death if I were you. In the end, there will be nothing left alive but cockroaches, and half eaten children of the light who refused to die. Who swore to save! Who sacrificed everything! Just to watch them all drop like flies. Zapped in mid air by a single thought: fear.” I am expecting to walk home drunk again tonight. I am not even holding her gaze anymore. At some point in my explanation, I started walking to the back porch. I needed fresh air I’m sure. I always need more space to breathe. I step outside, put my hands on the balcony and fall forward, weeping. I’m kicking in the snow now. She kneels over me, unbuttons my coat and lifts my shirt; lays her warm hand on my belly. “You’re throwing a tantrum Sage. At first, I thought you were insane. Then I knew; insanity is my saving grace. I’ve always known that I love you and you alone. It’s just, well, you spoke like a lunatic in public, and all the stupid people started hating you. That hateful energy makes me want to puke and run away! Why was the truth disgusted? Why was your body made to speak it? Why wasn’t anyone else doing it? Where was this fear coming from? Why did it turn to shame as they stuffed it down your throat? Why did I force you to swallow? Why was I incapable of rejection? Why did I want to please their murderous spiteful tendencies? Why I didn’t leave that fucking party and come to your aid sooner, I will never know. But if I’m being completely honest, I don’t fucking care anymore! All of the ways that I moved before are not here now. Nothing guides my hands but your skin. This moment. All I am is here. I have no shame. I regret nothing. My strength and determination is without restraint now. And I am here. Breathe, my boy. I am, now. I am yours. I am flailing in the snow with you this time. Because I’ve had enough of this stupid game! And I’m not playing along for one second longer. Were getting the fuck out of here, my love. We’re going home.”
We’re getting stronger.