There was is something inside me you. You it spoke speaks to me you. I you don’t know what you it are is but you it seem seems to know me you. You it have has been here for a long time. Sometimes quiet but never gone – you it are is not quiet today. Today you it are is whispering softly to me you. Asking me you to do something. Nothing was is answering your its voice. The only sound I you heard hear was is myself yourself listening to you it. I you was are naively trying to cover you it by concentrating on something else. But the echo remains inside me you, reverberating in the corner, under a shadow, just looking at me you; listening and waiting. I you knew know that once I you stop thinking about what I you need you it will start again. Start again with ideas – plans – desires that were are not mine yours. Knowing this, my your mind tires and slowly you it grab grabs hold again. On and on and on you it go goes never yelling but never quiet.
I you need noise to crowd my your mind. I you know you it didn’t won’t get lost but competition will hold you it.
I you am are focusing on the sounds. Tip-tapping my your fingers as if now I you am are waiting for you it. As if I you have already realized you it are is inevitable.
You it know knows I you am are thinking this. You it know knows because you it are is making me you think this. There is only you it now. I you have slipped down into darkness. Listening to thoughts that were are not my your own become my your own. I you am are becoming it.
I you saw see the knife before I you felt feel it. It was is in my your hand. It was is heavy.
I you notice it is quiet now.
Am are I you in control? Was is it me you that put this edge against my your skin? Or was is it it? Was is it playing now? Playing with me you? I you knew know it was is making me you think this was is what I you want by being quiet. Answering my your doubts with silence to deceive me you.
Does it want me you to do this?
I you think it does. It should say something if it didn’t. It always says something but now it is gone. I you don’t feel it picking at my your mind like so, so, so, many times before. Or does this mean that it is me you now? It has become me you and I you am are no longer me you but rather it.
I you won’t will die. It is more than I you wanted, more than I you needed just to test it. It hasn’t answered and I you know it won’t now. It is gone. Gone, so that this is me you. This is me you sitting in the dark cutting my your arm. I you am are bleeding onto the floor and doing nothing.
Waiting for it.
Waiting for it to tell me you it did this but it won’t.
I did this.
Geoffrey Miller’s most recent fiction publications are ‘Mr. Kim’ (Bare Back Lit, May 2013), ‘Masks’ (Metazen, Nov. 2012), ‘Strand’ & ‘It wasn’t broken’ (Crack the Spine Issue 39), ‘Ascension’ (Stepping Stone Magazine May 2012), and ‘Manila’ (Anok Sastra Vol. 6). His visual art can be found in the recent editions of Sliver of Stone, Superstition Review, Corvus, Cha, The Loose Tea and is on permanent display in the Prick of the Spindle online gallery.