Time you say has slowed. But, you jump from perch to perch around the room, devoid of any serenity. I hold still, as if spotted in a fish bowl by the feline's hungry eyes. You stare without emotion, plotting my demise....too lazy to pounce but satisfied that I'd be yours if you let instinct rule your mood. I stare back, searching for compassion...a circle of golden shimmer to show my worth. But, you've moved on...licking your wounds, reminded of why you hiss and scratch. Searching, searching for a reason to lie still and let the love seat's soft cover transport you to kinder worlds. But, you feel betrayed by its patronizing offer, to drain you of your fearsome poise. You move again so as to escape its seductive though pricey offer. You're not ready to let go. But, all eyes grow heavy with time and witness. So, you find a way to prick your perceptions back to life...whip the body, shock the mind, burn the nose, drown the brain, pollute the lungs. You believe you've found the key to control every emotional door, every memory, every organized mental file of a frustrated life. Shaped like a lock pick, pointed columns of powder on a mirror which has only ever offered a ghostly reflection, a blurred reality that made you feel so in control, when in fact, without doubt you are its slave. "I'm different", you say. "I'm special. Can't you see it?" "No", I say. "You're dressed in the same arrogance and illusion as everyone else who's ever set out to dance with the devil. "I barely recognize you now", I say with a teary tremble usually reserved for eulogies and long goodbyes. You are all the good and kindness stripped away. You are the silver structure, beneath the shiny gold and diamonds. You are part of the whole...and therefore loved as part of the whole. But, alone....the peacock feathers you pretend to spread are shadows cast from arms lashing out to blissful tunes you barely hear and pretend complete your withered being. A finger can not disguise itself as a hand. And, here I am swimming and swimming, wishing you hadn't lost interest. They say there's nothing I can say. This is your game to lose alone. A magical escape you call it. At least you can embrace the lie. I'm lucid, but lost in my own helpless world, longing for a remembered touch and shocked at this moment to think I might be comforted by the best you have to give...an empty stare.
