alter ego
have i said too much?
there’s nothing else i can’t think of to say to you.
- evita peron
while
i was sitting in front of this cold blinking machine, despondent, my
other self sat beside me in one of the maroon swivel chairs here in a
prison-visiting-area-looking cubicle. he said he is named michael - the
once archangel.
michael : i know lucifer
me : much more than i do?
michael : yes, far more.
me : are you telling me i’m a loser?
michael : not so. sort of.
me : so what’s the point?
michael : to make you believe that i was once an archangel.
me : i believe. never a shard of doubt. i’ve always believed in visions. didn’t you know that?
michael : i know. but you are a person of incosistencies. you contradict your self.
me : you are overbearing. you belittle me too much.
michael : i do not.
me : so why are you telling me that?
michael : to tell you that you are a coward.
me : how do you connect that?
michael
: you do not always believe in what you believe. you needed me to tell
this in your face and sit in this god forsaken hellhole.
me : i didn’t ask you to.
michael : i didn’t want to.
me : then leave.
michael : i cannot. i have to tell you.
me : what’s with the sense of urgency here?
michael : we have no more time to waste.
me : why?
michael : i do not know. i just sense so.
me : crap. leave now!
michael : i cannot. i have nowhere else to go.
me : does it concern me?
michael : why not? i have no more time and so do you because i am you.
me : i am here and i am me. do you see me sitting in your chair or wearing your shoes?
michael : you are not and i do not. but i am you.
me : go. just go where you have to go - you crazy talker.
michael : i take it. people think that i am everytime i tell them that i know lucifer and i was once an archangel.
me : you are so like me.
michael : because i am you.
me : don’t talk me into it.
michael : come, i’ll take you with me.
me : where?
michael : i do not know. but i can fly. i can take you wherever you want to go.
me : i cannot go.
michael : why?
me : i have to stay and write.
michael : write about what?
me : despondency.
michael : pathetic!
me : say it again and i will break your jaw.
michael : no, you cannot. you cannot hurt your self.
me : i can. i always do.
michael : i know.
me : i have something to ask from you, intruder.
michael : what is that?
me : submit. bow down to me.
michael : i cannot. i was an archangel. i was the bearer of light when all there was was darkness.
me : do not sell me tall stories. show me your wings if you were.
michael : my wings were clipped.
me : why?
michael : i flew so high.
me : is it a punishment?
michael : no, my father clipped it because it became unsightly. it got burned.
me : burned?
michael : i flew too close to the sun, the paste used to tuck my feathers melted.
me : icarus? are you icarus?
michael : no i am not.
me : your story sounds like his.
michael : but i am not him. my father’s name though is deadalus. we were imprisoned, we made wings to escape.
me : you are icarus, do not lie to me!
michael : i am you. i am michael, i was once an archangel but my wings were clipped. believe me.
me : go, i have to write. do you kow evita?
michael : evita peron, of course. who doesn’t know her? i met her once before.
me : you are all knowing.
michael : have i said too much?
me : there’s nothing much i can think of to say to you. go now.
lente!
Chique said this on October 9, 2006 at 7:20 am