#1 is the loneliest number

There is so much

pile-a -shit

around here

its impossible to see clearly at all.

I seriously don't want or need all the shit that I have.

You want a tiny lamp? Candles?Mirrors with gold frames?

I have twenty pillows

and only one head to rest

but somehow it still refuses to.

And when it tries it is still running, dreams are still playing.

Sometimes nightmares, and now there is

no one

to chase them away. But I'm actually pretty okay with that. I really

feel like miss-big-pants because I can chase them away myself.

But sometimes I think it would be nice to need someone to...

Oh well...I am going to take a bath now...

and dry off with colored towels

that match my colored bath robe

and lie in my bed that is too large for me

because I can

and because I have too much shit

where i live

in apartment number one.

going barefoot is no longer....bearable.

the life it pulls my back
like nothing ever
pulled before.
and the weather changes
now like it has ever
changed before
the cold sweeps in
the space is thin
through windows
vents
and doors...
it rolls around
and makes a sound
like never heard before.

The sun in winking
slowly shrinking
off to something more
the irritating
cold is waiting
feet
to meet
the floor.

get out

A bout of intense depression had clouded my thoughts for weeks. I was at my breaking point, that point where I was sure that if something wonderful or something terrible did not happen soon, I was going to lay on the floor in exhaustion....staring blankly and blinking only when the burn of the wind was too much to bear, tears of pain rolling down my cheeks...the only tears this face had met in far too long.

But Sunday it was as if the cloud lifted...the black balloon bursted into a thousand peices, too small for anything to choke on. And now my head pounds from hunger, so much that I must go to sleep to end it.

green-ish

he keeps a tiny flip book in his left back pocket
it is filled with poems about silly things like
oppression
poor people
conspiracy
and myself..
He told me once that he knew me.
and I say "you don't really.
you just want ME
to think YOU
know everything."
But he did not..
and I never told him.
End of converstion
so we began to talk about money because it seems to be the flesh
and the guts and perhaps even the bones of everything
and God is nowhere to be found.
because THAT would be silly
like me and my dreams
which would therefore belong
with the other silly things
quietly riding
in back of his jeans
that are from 1998 but have never been in style....
with wierd pockets that don't fit anyones' butt i mean not even people in 1998 much less HIS butt which is sexy
because he thinks it is, which somehow makes the jeans in style (though they have NOT ever been)
but he makes them glorious...
with snakeskin shoes.

What a horrible combination
but still somehow very sexy because he, with his great big ego, is underneath it all.
...and though he will never be famous
he will always act like he is.

And to the lonely, only me
on my little planet he'll always be
famous..

which he will never EVER know about because I can never EVER tell him
so as to avoid bloating his already enormous head...
and if you poked it with something sharp and very small
I imagine that EGO
(which is probably green, like money....the flesh of all guts of all bones of all people LIKE him) would come hissing out..
for twenty yards or so I imagine..
and I would chase him down the hallway batting his hands away from the tiny (but awesome) hole in his shrinking head....
So we wrestle and roll
as I strive to control
the perfidy
the bulge
the ego
the ugly
swell of his now shrinking head.

And I hold back his hands
So perhaps I could drain it.....
say, a third???
or maybe less,
we will eye-ball it.
...so NOW we sit at the end of the hallway, I am holding an old towel.....
by this time he has surrendered
because you would be surprised what a little less ego can do.

we are looking at the hallway,
we are seeing the green spattered walls
how fortunate, I would think, that we painted them green when we moved here.
We would be winded from the chase, we would catch our breath at the end of the hallway
and sit in awe for several minutes.
breathing.

"wow" i would say,
"You should write about this."

surrender of the backseat driver

With my feet on the dash
And an upside down map
I squinted and said
“its not time for this yet"
In disbelief now
"it's not time for this ever"
and the driver He laughed
“Oh you think you know better?”
still grinning and laughing
sat back into leather
turned the radio up
raised his eyes to the weather
and he drummed on the wheel
to the beat of his choice
drowning out the complaints
of my ignorant voice.

And He said
“Well it is.
if I say that it is”
I stared down at my hands

so small next to his
said half to myself "ya I guess that you're right"
So I just let him steer
through the fog of the night.

“So what are we all doing here?”
I asked
He smiled and he pushed back his hair…
“Relax.”
Said “I think that you know here with me you’ll
survive...
and dont you think after your life
you're alive?"

Stated not so much like an inquiry
cause Lord knows that he knows my
impatient worries
She saw at times life of the solitary
Is one thing
that she knew
she’d just have to
carry
cause round here you know
you can't lay around
and let the the things in
that just weighed you down
youve gotta get out
to shine brightly and grow
though things might get quiet
you're never alone
cause the company there
in the midst of a prayer
none other
shall ever
know.

hilltops of glory i now can see

circle outside right beside the hilltop
never thought'd this' how tonight would wind up
but here i see i am with you fine people

circle outside back behind the hilltop
a group of strangers share a little smoke and small talk
but then again who knows anyone anyway?

...well he said how old are you i said twenty two
he said you're a grown woman so what you gonna do
and the speaker she was thrown to speechless somehow

and i backtracked a step said dont ask me yet
been puttin that off awhile'n tryin to forget
that this grown up child has got to be a lady now

circle outside out beside the hilltop
group of strangers goin round and sharin deep thoughts
clouds and wind blow through the pastures near

circle outside just behind the hilltop
just a group of Gods children here to watch the moon drop
new friends now i see i held so dear

quiet old man with the white silver beard
he said someones comin and it caught my ear
and then he asked the young girl if ya wanna hear more

so i said yeah and he kept talkin
my mouth was shut and eyes a gawkin
cause through the silver came the secrets of the world

and i listened for hours...

sittin in the circle outside the hilltop
under all the talkin you can hear the rain drop
seems ive found a kinship here tonight

circle getting closer as they close the hilltop
night creatures sound outside of eyeshot
summer moon and stars give peaceful light

then another spoke up said your bodys nice
i blushed said thanks and I rolled my eyes
i said lets try not to make a big deal of it

since we ran out of talk we sang bobby mgee
and to my surprise they knew the words good as me
and to melody the harmony just fit

circle outside right behind the hilltop
none of us knew this is where we'd end up
knowin each other in short time that we met

i'm gonna forget me plenty of things
cause age it comes and holes it brings
but that night i learned this lifes sublime secret

oh yeah laugh now frat boy

you pinch em and you hate em
and you drive em to the brink
the dishes stack up ten feet tall
they rot against the sink
you think that cause youre rich
that you must have to own the world
you think cause who your parents are
youll always win the girl
but this girl sees right through you boy
she knows just what your worth
your bout as deep as puddles go
and only half the girth
youll own this campus corner
till your bout twenty five
then everyone will see your soul
youll cease to live the life
and no one will care what youve got on
and pricey it may be
your stupid shirt cant hide your filth
you never hid from me.

uneasiness never gets any easier.

dust a little bug
ever so gently from my shoulder
and i think about the things
that held me here and made me older
like how i belly-crawled
and hung my head
throughout the drunken dusty summer
sat beneath dim light at cheap old tables
made for me
to drink me under
but still i see it never quenched
that lonely lonesome human hunger
for something bigger something
wild
some way to keep me younger

and i remember why there never was a satisfying place to go

because theres too many other places that my bare feet want to know

and the feeling that they never will overwhelms me now it seems

cause theres nothing more ill ever want than to chase those secret dreams

and every day i pray they may fit in my bigger scheme

my scheme of things is murky but i long to see it clean

someday it will be clean...

i want to hear the voice of God and turn my stride to where it goes

i want to see the angels on the hill and stay the course that glows

i want to walk a new terrain thats made to fit between my toes

i want to taste the rain its skies provide and feel the wind it blows

i need to have it all around me let it saturate my skin

like wet around the catfish gills i want to breathe it in

because im bored of you im bored of here and boredom mothers sin

im going to feel the brand new loved one, have to find the brand new kin...

the weak gene

youre weak
so weak
for in your thoughts you sink
so much to offer to this place
youre drowning in the stink

You fill the holes with new love
draw the curtains on the old
i never see you round these parts
your warmth so fast grew cold
you cant remember when i loved you
cause you tucked that in a fold
oh it will hit you someday
but youll never break the mold

mind at work

Let him knaw
and let her chirp
for i can't sleep
my minds at work

Let it breathe
and let it hurt
let it turn
my mind at work

Let it roll
and let them drive
let the night life
be alive
I'll catch my sleep when
moon gives way
when birds awake
my head I'll lay

but loons fly low
and evil lurks
so in the night
my mind it works

But all is calm
when eyes are wide
behind my lids
no thought can hide
the wonders of the earth are clear
my mind it works
when night is here.

oh me oh my oh summer

As it comes to an end
of summer is it
in awe and gaze
and wonder why it
is i want to be so
damn uncouth so
raw filthy
like the boys
and the dog days
and the cut-offs of summer
the bare foot journeys
that chased off the hunger

the satisfaction that came from depression
the feelings of love
that bordered obsession
the rains
the flood
the river
the mud
the great scenes from the grass on my back up above
the dark man who chased us
the white moon who saved us
the curious prophet whos knowlege amazed us
discovering God who was already there
the smells of the summer
unwashed from our hair
of sweat
of weed
of grass
of wind
of romance
of perfume
of long distance friend

some things you think
they never will end
like summer
but somehow
the rule never bends
the summer it waves
with fall it must blend
the moon will stilll rise up
but fun will descend
the bronzes will fade
the clothes put away
and we'll watch the sky
for the next summer day.

OUT! OUT! You demons of technology!

I jog outside at night. Last weekend I camped under a bridge in downtown Tulsa. I talk shit to women at slummy bars. I sing karaoke...and am terrible at it. But I do it. I can do it all.

but I can't bear THAT. It's just too terrifying.

Always someone telling me I've forgotten to do something. I never hung out with them. I stood someone up on a date that I forgot about...okay maybe I didn't want to go because honestly, I hate dates.

But not as much as I hate that... I just can't bear it....it's too terrifying. Always 'hi this is so-and-so with so-and-so and you haven't paid your credit card.' or 'hi this is I-met-you-at-louies-guy and i bought you a drink and you didn't go home with me' ( haha!!) or then there's Norma, the Jehova's witness I met nearly six months ago at JiffyLube.

Don't ever give your number and home address to a Jehovah's witness.

I can pick up snakes. I can go through the house and check all the closets. I can SWASH back the shower curtain real fast to prove there is nobody back there. I can make the dangly spider hang from my finger as I try to run outside faster than the spider can close the distance.....I can do all this.

but I can't do that....it's just nerve-wracking. it makes me sweat. Hear that sick little clack clack click? Tooth against fingernail.

Always Deana with meals on wheels....wondering if i can drive like, yesterday. my ex, wondering if I died. My mom, wondering if my ex has killed me yet. My mom again, wondering if I'm wearing my seatbelt at that very moment. My mom AGAIN. My dad...always the same, he always begins "Kierston, this is your dad..." (no shit dad). The rest of the message might be the same every time too. I don't know. I don't ever make it that far.

I can't. I just can't. It's too terrifying. I have to press 7 7 7 7 7......and more 7's... 'delete, delete, delete,"
i say it out loud.
'delete, delete, delete."
while pressing the sevens. cutting off the voices. without even hearing them usually.

But then there's the reward. My favorite ones. the ones I have saved that play after the scary ones.

like the one of my brother and drew singing happy birthday to the tune of batman.
"Happy birthday, da-na-na-na-na-na-na!
it's your birthday, da-na-na-na-na-na-na-na!"

and the ones from boys with nice voices. cute boys, with nice voices.

and the drunk dials. like when shannon left the whole chorus to 'smack that'

and the ones for the wrong person. usually for someone named jamie. Always drunk messages....people drunk enough to keep talking to the wrong person after hearing the personalized greeting....because Hi this is Kierston sounds nothing like Hi this is Jamie leave a message....and they talk anyway, not to me, but to Jamie. funny.

but not. That little VHS tape/envelope-looking icon at the top of the screen. It stares at me. It mocks me. It says to me, it says;

'you didn't answer your phone and somebody has something to say about that missy. And i'm not a gonna gowa way until you hear them out'

But i can overcome. I have a brand new dance! I have the sevens. Seven seven seven! delete delete delete! Out you beasts, OUT! I have an old priest and a young priest! Holding the phone away from my head, I press the sevens! Ha!

Don't beep at me when you want to be plugged in, I say when you eat!!
Don't tell me when I have to listen to people, eff you!

I am the boss, the master of technology. We are the masters of technology. We can conquer our phones! What a feat! And what's next!!?? The world!?

weary prodigal daughters

life is full of scandal
you should not prey on the hopeless
or the followers
or the weary prodigal
weary prodigal
hear me prodigal
daughters

Youve got a head
you know how to use it
go out in the world
dont come back till you proved it

branch off from your mothers
you girls with no fathers
you weary prodigal
weary prodigal
weary prodigal daughters

talkin' paul mcartney blues

these days i drink more coffee
and smoke more pot than ever
I paint on the walls. I make collages
of old Mick Jagger
looking at young Mick Jagger
and young Paul Mcartney
blowing smoke on old Paul Mcartney
on that stupid new album
(which was played at starbucks all over america,
for 24 hours non-stop)
Old paul would have hated that.
Old me would hate me.
I wonder if I am ever supposed to find out WHY.
I dont consider myself dumb...
I am not completely unlikeable
I love dogs...and smart boys.
i am fairly strung out.
probably because I drink too much coffee
I just like coffee
but no so much Starbucks
anymore.
damnit.

derek. (i think)

well i thought youd be back
but you werent
werent cha?
well you are just a traving boy
arent cha?
all dirty with plaid and a tent
all looking like oliver twist-ish
with a guit-fiddle and a mountain harp
or maybe we'll just go ahead and say
like something of a young Dylan
or a young Dylan channeling woody guthrie
well
either way
you asked me my name
your eyes were so charming and blue
and all i could say was just that-my name
when i spoke back to you
but what i really wanted to say was
take me with you
traveling boy because you do
you do have better places to be
than here
waiting for me
me who perfumes
before visiting the vending machine
in hopes that i will breeze by you
and your friends will look too
and youll get jealous..
well at least that how it happened in my head...
but you broke me
and i was too shy
to ask you twice
and i still dont know why
i was so defenseless against you
coming in from san fransisco
God bless san fransisco
rolling em out like a red carpet
except more like a VW bus
still red
but not as flat
and not as classy
maybe ill see you
on the side of the road
ill probably just leave you
nobody takes my heart home.

head is in the mountains

feets is in the flood

save my child from sinking

in the oklahoma mud

we knew shed run off someday

didnt know so soon

finally im okay

okay

stretching toward the moon

life is a hometown hell

his head is in the stars

each day he finds here

less and less

that holds him in the mars

i knew youd run off someday

hey now

still dont know how soon

youll join me any

day now

stretchin for the moon

hard as you...fast as you...i can break..your heart too

remember when my panties matched those little palms on your sheets?
and the fun-bump we hit
tearing down the country streets
behind your parents..
but they were never there
but even if they were
we're impossible to catch
right?
I mean at least we thought
so
we were a couple of rebels...punks
hiding vodka in the bushes
and the mixer in your trunk
hiding nothing from each other
except i didnt tell you
that the fun-bump
actually scared the shit out of me
cute.
and you didnt tell me
that you slept with my friend..
cute..
but I was always safe with you
when you would drive me
i was always safe with you
at least i thought...
i thought i knew..
you
throwing back your long hair
to that stupid fucking song
i dont listen to
you
thats when i knew that i loved you
and i knew youd be glad too
and i wanted to tell you
that day you came to school
with a headache
youre a smart boy
but not smarter than me
i made you a new headache
sent you to your knees
you begged for forgiveness
cute...
baby's first 'please'
i'll give you forgiveness
but you'll never have me.

secret squirrel

the hair the face it covers

could keep me in this world

baby its the reason

she made the secret squirrel

the first time that he kissed her

woke up a sleeping girl

but then her eyes were zipped

up tight

for sake of secret squirrel

we could shout it to the rooftops

and let it all unfurl

but all the fun

would come undone

with no more secret squirrel!

so pretty

stripe and polka paisley plaid
all the things i thought i had
it figured out
without a doubt
i was so sure
id never think
that id need more

than stripe
and polka
paisley
plaid
useless things i used to have
and then i knew
that someday soon
youll hope im who
youll run into
ill be just who
youd run into

i think this time we shall escape

born to hopeful parents
raised upon bad news
they planned for somethin better
but hes gonna sing the blues

wont you??
just like me
tired and anxious
just like me
lonely and restless
just like me....cursed...and
oh God I know how it hurts
cause you're just like me

our world has got no ocean
and this oceans got no shore
if you dont peel them eyes up quick
you'll miss the only door

cause hes not coming to you
youre the one with wings
head for the horizon
to capture what it brings

stand on your two bare feet
only guess what you will find
he cant wait to rest out on the street
so anxious to see his mind
in action....
in situations.....
you never been...

but this world it has no ocean
and our ocean has no shore
you've never done much prayin
but 'God'...'there must be more'
just more..
or just not here...

at the end of the day...

back to dusty
same old home
slack and cozy
never alone
always lonely
always blonde
slightly bony
loosely wound
never quaint
only charming
never hungry
always starving

piano breaks my heart.....what a feeling

almost black now
windows
perfectly placed
such dark eyes
on such a dark face
searching the ceiling
searching for space
you would adore me
if you knew me but
ill have to take care
so when you come up
those 25 years
youll bring me back
and stop breaking my heart
and start making me laugh
as i tear you apart
ill start with your lips
I've got a feeling
you'd love my kiss
the way i'd bruise
that swing in your hips
and dizzy your knees
with just fingertips...
sir you never knew
the verse which you said
it nested in deep
within my poor head
within my poor soul
within my young ears
you'll never know
my little girl fears
that bring to my face
these little girl tears
or that i listen
so closely to you
though youll never know me
ill long to know you

drooping faces on parade. wal mart on a monday afternoon...

I cant breathe here. everywhere i move its smoke or agony. its a dead end, its a lack of inspiration. there is no way but out...... out of here because if you stay too long it starts to grow. it starts on the surface. it digs deep, twisting hot roots down, intertwining them with your vessels...poking through the taught fascia that covers your muscles. if you got em..

where do i go now? i went to wal mart today, there were nothing but lost souls at that place on a monday afternoon. a woman with two little girls. i dont know how old they were, i can never tell with little kids. ill guess seven. seven and six. she was hunched over her shopping cart, dying for a cigarette. buying cereal. both girls carry pink and purple cases with plastic pink and purple doll shit inside, they argue about who's is prettier. I did that once. they look at me like im a god. im a big girl. shee-it.
the smoker coughs. they will cry when they get to the non-smoking part of school, i did.
the part where some middle aged divorcee DARE representative puts on a happy dance and comes to talk about the dangers of smoking, and tell all those innocent little ears that smoking is bad....and give out proud stickers for the non-smoking six and seven year olds
who will eventually take their sons and daughters into wal mart
monday afternoon
while he is at work
and she is dying for a cigarette

Janis Joplin in a dirty white sedan..

Daydreaming, as I often do, I found myself drifting into a nightmare....

I was driving back from my home town, cruising southbound down a country route that I often use. Suddenly I came upon a brown fog, a dusty sort of cloud that swirled from the nothing ahead of me.
The fog grew to a menacing size and density as I approached, now visibly cluttered with debris.
A dusty white sedan appeared from the mess, traveling in the direction opposite mine. It was boxy, some early nineties junker. I decided to ask the other motorist whether it was safe to press on, so I slowed to a stop.
The sedan's neglected breaks let out a squeak.
I rolled down the window to talk to the stranger, only to find that my legs had fallen asleep. With tremendous effort, I shrugged my head and shoulders out of the open window. I tried to form a sentence, still not grasping what the hell was going on.

"How do you...what is the..........shit...help"

The other motorist, a woman in her forties, cocked her head to the side and squinched her face into a confused expression. She looked just like Janis Joplin and she was wearing my sunglasses. She stared at me like I was nuts.
"What?...." she began.
She continued to move her frowning mouth, but her voice quickly gave way to a fuzz inside my ears. The numbing parasite crawled through my body, consuming my last bit of energy.
My head fell to the side of the car, smacking it with a thud. The door slowly swung out as I leaned on it, as if someone opened it from the outside but had been forced to let go of the handle as the car accelerated forward. My limp body stretched across the widening space between the door and its socket.
The push of my upper body against the door opposed my foot to the gas pedal, and to my horror the pavement below began to move backwards more rapidly. The sedan and the confused woman were gone, and I stared in bug-eyed terror at my stationary view of the ground.
Patchy rural pavement panned by quickly, then grass, then just the brown ugly fog. I looked on helplessly, struggling against the laziness that was consuming me.
I fought for consciousness and finally came-to in my bed where I had been reading, now thoroughly freaked out. I had been holding my breath for awhile, probably what woke me up.

Nellie Bly

-Nellie Bly-

All of that
to use your name
none for me
is me to blame.

With hunted look,
you stole your fame
I'll find mine
and do the same.

Elizabeth Pink
but what's in a name?
A rose is a rose,
a quill is a fang.

squeaky clean deceit

dress up
get out
stumble on in.
wont look at you
till im washed of the sin.

rinse off and scrub down
now you see my sheen
baby just because I sin
it doesn't make me mean.

sanitizer
moisturize her
neutralize the stain
dirt cheap and dirty deeds
swirl around the drain.

the problem we spoke of....

The Problem.

REMEMBER?

It's back.

I surrender

white flag it.

I'd rendered

the situation

on probation

until the next time.

Primero vez

mas de diez

y dos

at the most.

Though Im not a prophet

though

I know

this show

goes on

and I can't stop it.

How can so much

come out of someone so small?

Forget it

I won't call

your sorry ass...

but I think you're charming

so charming

it's annoying

and alarming.

porque

tu eres el diablo!

que mal suerto!

but

The point we strayed from was

wanted to tell you because

the problem...

the dilemma...

you remember?

oh come on

you remember..

it must like me

because it's back.

our shows always encourage the arts!!

Did you ever watch T.V as a kid!? Holy shit it's wild!

" its coming out like toothpaste" says the TV for the second time.
Shannon and I have been watching teletubbies for the fist time in ten years. The windmill in the distance is the parental figure, calling them to do something that they dont want to do. They succomb to flashes that come from their stomachs and lay down on the ground as the camera pans in to the stomach TV for video time....children squirting out brightly colored icing, forming little icing houses and little icing people. Of babies sucking on plastic guitars. pointless clips with no words...where are these kids anyway? The Tubby tummy? The tubby large intestine???? They play these five minute clips TWICe. TwiCe during the show. Same fucking thing.

The crazy wierd thing that rolls around with the fucking TUBE.?? That is the maid?? And tubby custard, this machine makes odd looking shit liquid ice cream and the red tubby yells "tubby custard tubby custard" this shit happens over and over, with each tubby waiting for his ice cream shit looking liquid as the machine distributes it. This process takes up like ten minutes of the program and it has happened in every episode that I have ever seen. It is always youngest to oldest. The shortest always comes lastly as the tallest comes first. The youngest is always the most retarted sounding. bood boob boop boop boop fart....the machine goes and it turns out the shit custard. "tubby custard tubby custaard"
The voice of reason always speaks at the end, when the tubbies sink down into their little holes for the night..creepy really.
"So what changes about the show"? Shannon asked?
"Not a damn thing".....almost exactly the same every episode. brilliant.
They are all supposed to be different races. Their wierd little faces are all slightly different shades of tan/yellow/brown.
"What happens when we spill tubby custard?"voice of reason asks.
"The nunu cleans up" they say in unison

(...thats the wierd fucking vaccuum thing)

Oh and lest we forget, the varied shapes of dildo looking things on top of their heads. Weird. BBC is f'ing weird.

Tuesday's Forecast in Hindsight

The weather channel shows the belly of the state in bright red; I for one am wearing bells. I want to have one of those crazy stories where the storm sucks away everything but me and the bathtub.
It was an act of charity on my part that sparked this change in my disposition. Every week I drive for a non-profit organization that provides soggy hospital food for senior citizens and the disabled of the community. My grandmother did it until she died so I took her place.
She would NOT be proud that I took a piss once in someone's yard.
Nobody was home.
It was out in the b.f.e.
Gimme a break.

Today was not my usual route, I was actually called in to drive as a substitute, which means i got completely lost and the people were good and pissed by the time I got there with the cold (soggy) food.
The Tuesday drive exceeded my usual once a week, I considered this to be especially honorable.. I wa feeling pretty darn good about myself, and not so bad about driving like a jackass because I had no clue where I was going.
Perhaps my fantasy would come true...the one about getting pulled over by a policeman for making a U-turn, then making him feel like an asshole because I am a cute girl doing volunteer work.
It started to sprinkle as I left the hospital parking lot, fumbling with the map as I drove with one knee. I argued with myself about whether or not I wanted it to pour.

G is for Golyadkin

Eureka! My mind can do most amazing things! I will never be alone again. Only, I thought, did these things exist in the DSM-IV. I never actually thought that people experienced them. Several nights ago I was taken aback by a foreign but strangely intriguing voice, it sounded not unlike my own. I began to feel short of breath and mildly nauseous as I allowed myself to listen. Slowly it spoke to me, but not as another person would. This voice had a clear message, but spoke in a language that only I could understand. It sounded different because I was hearing it not with my ears, but with my mind. The voice came from inside.
It was too late to call anyone, and I was so afraid that I ran to the other side of my apartment to sleep in my roommate's bed. She had no idea why, I told her I was really drunk and kinda freaked out, urging her to go back to sleep. I wasn't really drunk, nor was I just kinda freaked out. My mind was actually switching consciously from one person to the next. I could physically feel the change inside my head, morphing from one point of view to one completely different. It felt like I was crossing my eyes, though I don't know how to do so. After a few minutes my sanity seemed to be restored and I returned to my wobbly, uninviting bed. It smelled of tanning lotion and old sex, I realized that it had been weeks since the sheets were changed. I peeled them from the bed and lay between two comforters, staring at the royal purple fresca that spanned the entire west wall. Slowly the nausea set in again, souring my gut like bad fish. My head once again felt cumbersome. Though I tried to fight it, I became increasingly suspicious of Dionysus, gazing down at me from the wall. I felt guilty that the fresca didn't adorn a picture of Jesus instead. The voice returned and informed me that the fresca was in fact possessed, that it poisoned my dreams at night and that I must take it down.
I then did what I always do when I catch myself in an alarming thought, I reached for a notebook and ink pen.
The change began to happen in intervals so predictable and so frequent that I could write to myself, in different penmanship for that matter. After writing one sentence, I could wait a few minutes and read it again, and it was as if I was seeing it for the first time. I played with this idea for awhile, asking myself questions.
This reminded me of something I had read years before. Like the Golyadkin in Dostoevsky's novel. Golyadkin Sr. felt sick and lightheaded every time the double came near. He didn't even like the double but lets him take control at times anyway. Golyadkin Jr. was better in social settings, so suave and likable-but physically identical to Golyadkin Sr. in every way.

There must be an upside to having multiple persons inside one's thoughts. The way I see it, everyone has them; however it must be that some people's are simply more audible than others'. How beneficial could it possibly be if these voices were to speak all at once in form of what they call a conscience? For most people, the voices of reason and recklessness confuse physical action. Why not rejoice in the fact that mine are polite enough to take turns?