The Cipher

by Kathe Koja

I had lived like a cockroach for so long that a full tank, a full refrigerator were no longer even desirable: I mean, what would I do with it all?

Skid and drift, that was me and the way I lived my life, foolish, hopeless, irredeemable, a broom-closet hellhole my epiphany, my one true love a woman who had never come close to loving me, even on my best days, her best days, this woman my lover now again in what was at most a terminal waste of time.

We are all our worst best friends. Don’t agree? Go fuck yourself.

I’ll take my now, waking with a lover’s scent still on me, around me, take my hopes before they’re maybe tragedy;

a good morning is still a good morning, even if it leads to apocalypse at night.

how does one behave at an ecstasy?

You can get used to being wrong all the time; it takes all the responsibility out of things.

Wanted instead to be ridden, not mindless but adrift, still, in the eddies of my helplessness, there is such peace in helplessness, it’s better than death any day, you’re still able to enjoy the ride.

A depression, that’s what a hole was, no matter how dark and lively, no matter how ultimately full.

something was eating at me, something stroking my bones from the inside out and there was no cure for that but to give in, give over, crawl headfirst and kill me, fuck me, I don’t care.