BAND AID
Present day.
POV ACE VICENTE
Sometimes I worry about the end being just another lousy trick after all this lousy agony, after all these vices employed for nothing but a lousy fix. Another day, another reason to lose myself, another way, another one thousand ways to kill, over a simple mistake, over nothing. For so long I made room for the recluse rebranding of my soul, making time for distant connections, all of us are dead, and I am all of us. I could spot them, dying, the Irishman just fading away behind me, and the lot, the scared little lot, my flock, running to him, trying to save him, the more, the more, the not so merry. And in front me, she lay beaten by the furious rain, attacked by Zeus and his silly pride and nonchalant chants of rage. No one, not anyone could save me now, two peas in a barn, my nearly precious peas, I have murdered.
