Double Tex

Kevinya and I sit together inside a crimped spacer mat reading from an open book; we understand our imagination is explanatory, we close for another world. Our companionship is deliberation exceeding dreaming husbands; he is an elusive self inspecting yesterday's bandages. Hilda Bee's footsteps are dress shoes for this moment into another equal depth; she speaks of two guests joining our unfortunate stay. I query with Kevinya, we wonder if permanent damage strangulates response mechanisms such as memory from each purposeless technique; the incorporation of confusion tangles my curls around his left index finger comparatively congesting worry, we must continue throughout unpredictable circumstance.

"We spend very few moments with each other."

"Not enough."

"Why?"

"You are always with your husband."

"I miss him so much."

Disappearing into another hesitant frustration I gather reading material to place upon the shelf. I concern for two arrivals; this is an earthly fortification of inhumane practices.

"They both surrendered."

"?"

"They do not fight."

"...."

"He wants to meet you."

My emotions fall from the ledge of suicidal revision; I am unable to collect myself for his entrance. I deny madness searching for recognition; loneliness curses my presence. His entry is a known person, I place my arms around him; he is my sworn interest of becoming what I am not. Saddening strength exudes togetherness; he is a darkening sun.

"A thousand and one."

He sits glaring infamy, his eyes are frosty dimensions of deafening blinding unjustified mankind. Kevinya watches from the hall corner; his witness is nearer than physicality, I cannot be without his closeness, I fear losing my reality.

"Who is that?"

"Kevinya."

"I'm going to die."

"We all are....."

"I'm going to be the first one."

"Why do you say...that?"

"I came here to fuck them up."

".....?"

"I know what they want."

"They want us to die."

"They want to make an army of each of us to use for themselves."

"Oh....."

"Then they are going to kill us."

"How will you....."

"There's something about me they going to find out."

"You smell like leather."

"They can't do it without me; I'm going to get them for that."

"You smell like flowers."

"God damn sons of bitches; they don't know where I come from but I'm going to show them."

"Who is the other man that came with you?"

"I don't know, didn't talk to him; guess ain't for us."

"You must be very similar....."

"....."

"I'm scared for my children."

"I don't got any."

"Oh....."

"I met a lady from New York."

"You care for her?"

"..."

"?"

"I liked her a whole lot."

"What of now?"

"I reckon so."

"What does.....hhhmmm....."

"I liked her a whole lot."

"Where did she go?"

"....."

"A whole lot."

"You will see her again."

"I don't know."

"Why?"

"She killed ten police officers."

"What?"

"....."

"Nothing like New York."

"Have you been?"

"This is the only other place I been."

"How did you......surrender."

"I gave up."

"....."

"I went to the police, told them I'm a vampire."

"Oh...."

"She told me they came after y'all."

"Is that why?"

"I did it for her."

"Is that why she...."

"She wasn't going to give up."

"....."

"She wasn't going to give up evermore."

"The wisdom of surrender is for your lover."

"We didn't do that."

"What happened to her?"

".....black fractals....."

Kevinya and Catrixenya stand inside the entryway facing his back; I examine cleanliness of talcum powder, enthusiastic bursts of humble integrity, a tired phrase comes from my mouth.

"Don't I know you from somewhere..?"

"We are always coming back."

"You look different."

"I lost a lot of weight."

"Oh...."

"Food ain't so great where I come from."

Zen is attentive detail, trance modulates hyper symphonic expression, I dream of her ocean blue eyes arising from thoughtful lids, I worry she is my imagination.

"She's there."

His assurance is pleasant humor however long or short the moment. I desire retirement from imagination; perhaps I may finally be able to experience light and sound.

"Black fractals...."

"I don't know if she was real."

"I see her inside of you."

"What did she look like?"

"Long black curls and blue green eyes."

"How did you know?"

"I'm dreaming."

"I do that about myself."

"?"

"I'll explain after they're done fucking with us."

"I understand."

"You going to be mad at me though...."

Tex repeated such similar words three thousand and four eventual happenings.

"What if they never stop?"

"They got's to."

"?"

"Earth don't stick around just for anybodies."

"My name is Zen."

"Hi there."

"He's my husband."

"What about him?"

"I'm Kevinya."

"He's my alleged husband."

"....huh...."

"He's my partner."

"Oh."

Tex calls otherwise my pals; he calls Zen my partner.

"What am I waiting for....?"

"Shit to be over with."

"Yes."

"It ain't over until..."

"Until what?"

"I don't want to say that anymore."

Hilda Bee touches a railing rattle; Tex's eyebrows spear point downwards.

"Only damn critter I don't care for."

"Been a while since I saw one."

"....?"

"I went there once."

"How's come?"

"You know."

He looks to me for unspoken secrecy; I reminisce Ambrosia, he escaped through a laundry canal.

"I'll see you soon."

"Victoria."

"I call him Tex."

"Oh...I like that."

Kevinya and Zen seat each side; right to left I center my friend and partner. They continuously flow a medium of extra perception. Cordelia curses hurriedly crossing several levels while I listen; she is volatile temper for our anguish. Victoria curses hurriedly crossing several levels while I listen; she is volatile temper for our anguish. I ask of Hilda's intern Samantha, the other is Carissa, we address them as twins; Tex's counterpart spoke with Ruby, he rests adjacent to the kitchen, she calls him Trammel.

"Don't you be worrying; I'm used to pans."

"Hey Tex."

"Hey...."

"What are you making?"

"I'm cutting out oils....can't be eating that stuff anymore."

"....."

"I use a special mixture of seeds; these is hemp, the oil ain't got....I don't want to use that word anymore."

"Oh...."

He gathers his thoughts from a walk returning to finish the pan concoction.

"You came back."

"Hey Vicki."

"Hey Tex."

"Hemp seeds secrete a special slippery, tastes....spicy."

Hilda Bee discusses Trammel and Tex with the twin interns.

"I can't tell."

The tower is empty of thirteen rooms, they were asked to leave for a meeting of some sort; we are temporarily relieved. We conclude they congregate for a box; the design is frequency signalization of experimental detrimental cities, we stall inside quiet sorrow, my husband bows his chestnut upon my left shoulder, Kevinya places a soft sturdy palm upon my right. We suppose the thirteen will choose participants for configuring dimensional graph scenarios; we cry six hundred and sixty-six tears.

"A box?"

"Yes."

"Got to think outside of it."

"....."

"Vicki do you know about time?"

".....?"

"You going to feel it."

"What kind of feeling?"

"Dizzy."

Bee prepares a blueprint of fields she visited; I glance but worry too much. Our children share rooms, five to each, Ambrosia is relying upon survival tactics; I dream of his companionship.

"I thought we would never get out of there!"

"Did you hear that?"

"Never leaves you Dick."

"How do you know?"

"Twenty-two years."

"I miss him."

"He will come back."

"?"

"He will want to see what's going on."

We request several outlets of expanded view, each propagates our contributions of oddities; we watch together however our thoughts exist separately. I turn around to see Amber wearing grey thermals, he nods a combed mane for recognition, inside his fist is a set of wires.

"They were listening to us."

Thirteen rooms refill, we commence our dreaded anticipation, this feeling is killing us; thirteen rooms are silent, the feeling is mutual.