the spider and the scarab

I have met a friend.

Realistically I do not have friends. But this is my interpretation of having a friend. Which in no way actually resembles most other examples. But other examples are not functional for me. I wish I could keep a train of thought for longer than what would seem to a mayfly an eternity.

I would say that if he and I are different patterns we were at least cut from the same bolt of cloth. Misfits. Social outcasts. He, though, is high caste. A warrior's son. Wealthy. Above reproach. He is "slumming", I would say. He despises his mother and hates his father and despite his best efforts continues to turn into his father. His psychosis is typical which leaves something to be desired, but if I were to meet too many of me then I would not be so ... exactly.

We drink together. He to numb his emotions. I in an attempt to emulate a few. He tries to appear normal to hide. I try to appear odd to hide. It is debatable which one of us succeeds more than the other. He lulls into anonymity and I shock into it. I know there is a myriad of things wrong with me. He believes there is nothing wrong with him. I believe I am cursed. He believes he is gifted. I collect. He does as well, though he makes them beautiful first. I like them broken. He has brief windows of perfection. I have brief windows of normalcy. In his moments he becomes a god. In mine I become a man. He is a dominant sadist, and I am a dominant masochist. His appearance is orderly and perfect. Mine is chaos and disheveled. He remembers everything. I am lucky if I remember how to get to my chambers at night, and many times I sleep in the streets because I can't.

We do not seek each other out. It is not our way. But on the off chance we sit down to eat in the same place at the same time we join each other for an evening of disjointed conversation.

Ar is home to many socially inept creatures. And when the last crimson tide has ebbed in the sky we gather with clicks and scrapes like roaches following the shadows ever inward savoring the taste of decay.