When the sky blushes for the dark night, my silent footsteps yearn for light. I tread wispy into houses possessing air that smells faintly of cooked oil. There I, shrouded in whispers, drift around the colossal rooms, with loud triangular symphonies raging within the tunnels of my head.
Everything is dark, papery breaths fill the chests in the sleeping beds. In one room quietly blossom particles of light, their soft laughter dances around the sleepless woman’s grave unrest. She stares wide eyed, frozen in a plane of vision. The bees buzz industriously around her nose, the eyes follow, as they enter the nostrils, penetrate the brain, swim in colored matter and come back out, ceaselessly repeating.
I sigh needlessly. She shakes out of her buzzing stupor and turning off the lamp twists into a position that pleads for rest. The covers release the air as they slowly mould themselves around her dreaming body.
The curtains swing up gently and caress the sleeping cat. It wakes up & looks at me keenly, its gaze so penetrating, my inert body trembles sweetly. I tend to some wholesome milk hidden away in the kitchen, unveiling it to the curious cat that spies defiantly.
It rejects my friendly offer; vanity is its jeweled crown, the breezy darkness is my only cloak.
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