“do you think i deserve this”, i ask. i examine the palm of my hand; dry & cracked wide open. dried blood sandpaper is probably smoother. i trace my lifeline w/ my index finger; it is short. i dont really know the rules of karma. i tell you.

as soon as the words leave my mouth, i flash back to that night on the dunes. you were high on god knows what. i was asking you not to go back to the party. you went anyway. i stayed by the sea. ~ all that doesnt matter now anyway, i say.

i didnt let go of your hand & am fingering your love line next which is tainted by a spiderweb of scribblings. “maybee we are so stripped of everything that this is the best possible place we can bee as strangers”. i didnt say anything but you can see my pupils drinking your words in slowly eyes the color of stormy ocean filling up, up, up ...

will you still bee my muse. you whisper, “i’ll bee your muse, but i’ll not bee your prey. you can no longer feed off my blood whenever it suits you. no more mingling w/ vamps”. i laugh although it is really not that funny & im thirsty too. do you think we will end up here again. i ask. i dunno know. i say. all i know is that we need to write this all down from start to finish & not bee so afraid of what we find.

~~~

Signed with love,
the diarykeeper, eii wyy nae.

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