Rote and His Talking Mirror #17

"whoosh. whoooosh."

"i thought we were trying to sleep."

"that was nine days ago."

"no it wasn't - i can see your calender on your wall to the right of your harpsichord."

"well i can see yours to the left of yours and yours says 21."

"turn around, you strange projection of your strange projection of some strange suppressed part of your subconsciousness - your calender says 12. and what's more - it says 12 Aug, unlike mine - which just says guA 21 - and only if you think your '2's and your 'g's are written backwards!"

"you missed out the 'u's."

"it's a goddamned sans-serif, Rote."

"whoosh. whooosh."

"oh - ignoring me now, are we?"

"i though we were trying to sleep??"

"damn you."

Rote and His Talking Mirror #23

"i know who you are. you're that person with those strange things you call opinions that you tell yourself are hidden deep in your head - but they're spewing out all over the place. i can see them oozing out of your ears. hah! there - there! look at that particularly fat looking specimen that's casting a lens of an extremely unattractive colour over your eye. i know you. you're bubbling and bursting with them - you can't contain them. quiver now, like a dead jelly, pink and glorified - that's what you do. you think i can't see through you - i don't have to. you're bursting at the seems. i despise you. i despise you with your judgmental eyes and cautious tongue. you think you're safe - you think you try? you don't know shit. you don't feel shit. you don't. you think that's dirt and muck under your fingernails? it's raw flesh. and it stinks. it stinks of FREAKING opinions and FREAKING rubbish that's all stacked up to the rim in that feel-good brain of yours, dressed as you trying. don't you think you can fool me."

"fool you, Rote? tell me something, when you describe this vibrant imagery of the pink jelly that's so lovely in you're head, are you at all aware that we share the same features. if i'm a jelly, with or without my so called burden of heavy opinions - so are you, with your own larger than life opinion of who i am. what do you think you look like to me? a dish of slimy porridge? that's simmered down and curled up satisfied - you're a goddamned jelly as much as i am - and what's more, you KNOW it. what are you doing - what do you think you're doing? slapping a kitten into left-over laundry? i'm not scared by your i'm-too-scared-to-say-bad-words. oh hell i'm not. and if you think you're fooling yourself by letting your tongue run loose and do all the screaming - just take a second look at what you're screaming at. just take a second look at that goddamned mirror and decide if it's doing you any good despising your own reflection."

a square in my pocket

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