hush hush friday, no need to speak.
i know you miss the island of nothing where your days were spent dutifully heeding your master’s orders.
your face stares blankly at mine but i stare back at you with even more questions of what your thoughts could be. but i understand if you don’t want to speak to me.
let me guess, is it the destructive power of speech? the stream of words that exit the mouth, getting lost in translation, truth is distorted as it lives in the empty spaces between people. is that what you think?
the mistress gets you on your nervous, doesn’t she? she tries to get you to tell your story, she forces you to be who she wants you to be. but i know you are more than that. you are more substantial than she omits you to be.
foe isn’t just another story about a compilation of useless letters, foe has become your story –
this mystery that no one can ever solve, except probably for your master, but he’s dead now.
only you live. you are free now.
and your silence becomes the substance of the story, the mystery.
friday, you represent the purest form of truth. while everybody wants their story told in full truth, you resist it.
hush hush friday, you have no business speaking now,
your tongue is absent and so are your thoughts.