“The walls are looking funnier than normal,”
he said,
before he climbed into the attic
in the dark.
By the candlelight,
lost thoughts locking onto horoscopes
remember how the eye of something
slathered everything
red.
Reaching out to insulation,
waiting for agoraphobic
stencils of reality
to leave me all alone
again,
something twisted.
Staring at the black envisioned light,
soft soles sacrificed their noise
for artificial fairy dust.
Standing up with nothing but
my fingertip adrenaline,
I found a little metal tail
dangled inconspicuous.
I pulled it knowing
nothing ever happens,
but I like the sound of switches
as they echo off an empty corridor.
Slow encroaching forward
found me in a blankness
too familiar,
but I chalked it up to optimism
gripping at my core.
Then a voice was heard,
“All of it will always have a purpose,”
as I sat on wooden planks
and curled myself into a ball.

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