demolition

The days get harder, the skull gets softer. Bony fingers poking through layers of yielding brain mass, probing into grey matter. What matters? What's the matter? Twists and turns and labyrinthine knots of pathways folding back in on themselves. I could get lost in here. Adult supervision required. Not recommended for children under age four. Four. When we moved to the house, I was four. For so long, I was there, forlorn, and for so long, I've been leaving.

Behind closed doors lie ruined cities of squalor. A private shame that the neighborhood knows all about. Despite my hiding place in the closet where they forgot all about me, I could still be seen by others. If I left the closet, I lost my powers of invisibility. People saw. People could see. They knew. They all knew. Loud voices bellowing and screeching from the windows and doors announced the fissures within to the world.

I dreamt of ruin, destruction, divorce. These things sugared my dreams when all else laid bitter upon my tongue. Someone please come and tear this house down. Burn it to the ground. Sweep away the ashes and cinder till there is only dry ground...dry ground. Mark this place off for the barrenness of burial ground. Do not place living things here again to die.