Of you, who I lost.
Of you who I still possess, or who still posesses me. The lines become blurred between self and not self, when blood and saliva and skin and hair and sweat and tears are mixed like ink.
When Ki is burned and blended and fused. Fission and possession. Destruction. I am an empress. I was. I will be. I am just a woman at her kitchen sink with wrinkled fingers and dark circles under her eyes and skin like wax. I am a borzoi. A flash of dark fur, shimmer blue and silver light, a dark almond jewel of an eye. Movement. Swift. Borzoi is swift. Borzoi is a royal dog. I am a royal dog. Borzoi is mono no ke. I am also everyone that I have destroyed. Everyone that I have devoured. Everyone who has devoured me. I see my distorted face in the half shrouded window above this sink. The shadows play in the corners of the kitchen. I see my other self. Although I would be hard pressed to explain it, there is a pleasure in my mortal disguise. Like probing at a canker sore with my tongue. She is so- Ordinary. Brown hair, dull skin empty eyes that are of no particular color except light. She is dependable, a good friend, intelligent but disconnected, poor, dirty. She is niether fat nor thin, neither tall nor short. Her hair is cropped short but even that has no meaning. Ordinary to most eyes. There are little signs that she is just a tupperware container for me, so to speak. For instance- She eats men like air. Her energy catches them unaware. Disturbs them. She has a birthmark on her throat in the shape of a three day moon. A dark crescent. And of course if you go back- she died. In her mother's womb this ordinary woman died, but refused to vacate her body. And very, very far back on her mitochondrial tree there is tsuchigumo, among other things. This gave her a compatibility to me. So we made a promise in that amnionic darkness. I live in relative peace, like riding a bus alone, rather unaffected by the driver, even while I affect the driver very deeply. Or afflict perhaps. I like this ordinary human. I like her will to survive, I like her acceptance of the inevitable. I like her gentleness and her brutality, although I cannot be sure if those things are her possesions or my own. One other thing that is a tell. We share you. Your mortal self and your Ookami self. Asmodey Serebryanya. Her name is Zenaieda Chelmska. She has managed to survive you. I can't say the same. I am the empress at the kitchen sink. Suphira.