who would torture a seal with fluorescent objects?
it no longer trusts anything but fish.
unless they are day-glo.
it is not in the pit of stomach, like everyone paraphrases from everyone else.
fear is located within my pores, it is seeped out with my sweat and soaks through my sheets and leaves damp uncomfortable spots underneath my armpits, lower back, ***, knees, and the soles of my feet.
nodding implies agreement but I never allowed this!
(someone is going to lose their job for this, I swear.
this needs to go through ME for approval first.)
I just want to go to sleep.
nodding off but NOT approving my eyes to snap open again, I HEAR EVERY SOUND in my house right now.
the only people home are the creaks and cracks and apparently my creeping paranoia.
james doesn’t count, he is too far away, we are separated by a wall that doesn’t even allow the sound of a ****** to pass through, we might as well be on different planets for all of my subtle cries for help.
and what could he do?
I am naked, literally, figuratively, I am frightened of sleep and what can he do about it?
and right now,
I am almost certain his face will be decomposing.
and if I wake him, will he be too groggy to put it back together before he comes to see me?
(and so we are all one-time mozarts, the very first time we fall asleep in our existence we must learn to compose our faces. we are all prodigies but we lose our creativity as time goes and we put ourselves together the same way every day for the rest of our lives. maybe if we all woke up in the middle of the night and saw that unraveled mess in the mirror, we would become geniuses again and compose a new piece.)
my heart is beating like a vertical iron rod placed straight in my middle, from my throat to my crotch, stiffening me, now disappearing, now back again, and when it fades away, I fear moving, I am afraid of curling up because of the horrendous wrenching I would get when that beating heart rod returns.
I think of the seal, which confuses me now as time is the greatest murderer of dream images so the fluorescent objects no longer make the sense they did when the dream was whole but the feeling I got from that dream leaves an uncomfortable sticky residue!
the sun makes its presence known as a strip across my door.
if I leave and come back, and the strip is broken, I’ll know someone was in here.