organ stops

Tell me about your unhappiness, and I will speak to you of respect. I found a pipe in a drawer, bottle caps scattered like breadcrumbs – a trail out of the forest – I saw an abandoned glass of scotch, covered in animal hair. A grown man hiding behind the partition of a wall – you can’t see me I can’t see you. What nonsense all of this is.

Rhymes, riddles, a labyrinth built of words, strung together like Christmas lights to keep everyone at a distance.

I do not know how it feels to be a yuppie, and I consider myself to have a strong personality. I got interestin’ things to say. Words like arrows, left like a bear trap to ensnare, and were it not for the strength of my armor the jaws would have locked themselves tight around my ankle. But the snare missed, and in place of the pain or anger I might have felt, there was only a distant sadness. Sad the way one might feel watching a freighter travel the northern horizon of Lake Erie from the far-away beach. Sad like grateful that you will never know such loneliness.

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It’s the second night of the waning moon and the gravity is affecting me less. (The fur is hiding underneath my skin again.) Nature has a way of balancing itself out. Things will be better one must only wait. And remember, anicca.