There is work to be done

– Bestir thee, O broken one, for there is work to be done.
– Aye. So I am gathering up all of my selves to do it.
– All of thy selves.
– All of my selves. All that is left of my mind and my body and my heart – and my soul also. I shall gather them up now, and hurl them against the rocks of the world. I shall watch the yolk of my selves splatter, trickle down in nauseating yellow sluices.
– And then thy work is done.
– These slow-trickling sluices I shall gather up again, in old ice-cream cups, again and again and again after each hurling, until all of my selves have trickled away past all gathering. And still my work shall not be done.