Deeper down.

[wolven7]

I've found something down here, and I never thought I'd find it. It's the bottom. I've dictated my notes, just in case of such an emergency, but I don't know that they'll be necessary, anymore.

It's glass, you see. It's solid black glass, down here, and I think I can see my own reflection, if i scrape away enough of it.

I know you told me not to eat the sacred fruits, until i was ready, but it's been 8 years. How much more ready could I be? The long nights of stealing the dream stims from children, and the "synth-ohol" from dejected adults has only left tihs gardening project a chemical mess, missing the thing you never cared to give it, never had the courage enough to try.

You were right.

I found myself, here, and i thought I couldn't hold the knife and dig the hole, at the same time, but I was wrong. I separated the layers and layers sand and dirt and flesh and skin and fat and reached the tendon and bone and there I was, at last.

I saw me there. I was yelling at you, in the basement of our large house, but I knew, then, that I'd reached the bottom. All of me. Everywhere. And I am about to break through to myself, everywhere. But you have to help me.

My knife broke. I still have my knife. My knife is a gun, a sponge, a complex grouping of chemicals, a concept of love, the idea of sunlight. It's my knife, and it is everything, you understand, everything I need, and want and know how to create and destroy. But I need you, here, to hold it.

Please.

Comments

[unknownbinaries.livejournal.com]

What are you growing there, under all of that? What is beneath the layers, the glass, the roots?

Beautifully cryptic.

[wolven.livejournal.com]

I'm trying to grow everything, again, I think.