his mind a shatterbox of edges his thoughts weary and dull limp along like thorazine smiles appearing one after another to be following him down the hall begging him for semblance of inner peace stop chasing me he whispers mock harshness to the darkness hoping to frighten the thoughts away he closes his door shutting out the dark hallway and escapes to the exact center of light in his safe warm room
mind a shatterbox full of slow motion detonations of thought and flashes of fragment memory scary things in his head he keeps wrapped in wool sweaters and mittens like little children sent out to play in the bitter cold their voices scratchy with distance and time laughing at him soon enough with runny noses they go home for cocoa and cookies leaving him in the exact center of the room as alone as he has been all night all of his life in the exact center of nothing a shatterbox filled with mystery things a broken man and his broken mind
he opens the door to the hallway and with almost gentle grace steps slowly into the darkness whispering fast prayers to protect from the fingerless hands that reach but never grasp from the shadows he moves up the hall to the cold floor bathroom the chipped tiles are filthy with the tread of feet from up the hall all the working men from the burning fields and the crop to be harvested their language is a song that he cherishes but their eyes see too much of him so he hides from them
the night wears on as it always will he repeats to himself that dawn cant be too far off he only has to survive the silence of night for a little longer survive the scary things just a little longer his mind a shatterbox of broken things protecting the world from the creature within
dawn has come and the new neighbor taps at the door with the meal he was waiting for he pulls the door open slowly and without a revealing word takes the hot food and cakes darkness is gone to sleep somewhere hopefully far farΒ Β away shatterbox filled with sleepy things now hunger isnt a companion
*i knock at his door at dawn and slip the bag of food into him as light begins to creep into the world this is his world each new neighbor passes the torch to the next 'make sure the old man eats the mans son pays the bill at the store and they leave the meals at the door but the old man almost never leaves that room' i wish i could do more for him but they tell me that he is happier alone i never have been happier alone