Blood Musk

October 15, 2009 - 2:55

In my dreams I keep returning to the demolishing few moments before I knew what had happened. Screaming am I an Orphan? Shaking, and pounding the mattress, throttling something nonexistent. Then finally an answer, the calm still shocked voice of my sister "..but it's really bad." There is still one left, but I feel no less orphaned. He seems gone and when he's not, he reveals he's nothing but a child.
As I write this, my nose begins to bleed. Something that has been happening lately, I will think it's snot, or tears if I happen to be crying, and then always a shock when it's a rush of blood. I get them now every few days.
I feel like I can't talk about it anymore, it makes people uncomfortable, yet it's all I can think about. And so it sounds canned, but it creates a feeling of being dead surrounded by the alive. It couldn't help that I only speak most intimately to her, a dead person. I say she's been gone long enough, to please come home, and sometimes it feels like maybe she really could. When I don't realize I'm thinking of her, I will let out a sighed search query: Mommy? I never called her that, but now I do when I'm not thinking.
I live in her room. My clothes next to hers, my head on her pillows. I save all of her hairs that I find, they are like mine but slightly more coarse. Her callous shaver, with specks of dead skin, I file them away in a box.
I don't really like to talk this way, but I'm scared.

I don't have the drive to survive this.