Tuesday, October 19, 2004
simon
Pierced by voices and precision razors, Simon smashed his hand into a stone lion. Roaring, I have lost my bed. I must sleep on unpainted boards and bent nails. The lion shook, moaned and spoke, "Seek out the chickenwire-man, he will have your mattress hidden in his slaughterhouse."
Simon ran farther into the night, jumping away from cars parked on lawns and tombstones parked on dimes. Tenements surrounded his headlong run, dipping to swipe at his legs and the sweat soaking his tuque. His fever stumbled, blood dripping from his broken mind, tears pouring from his broken hand and screams pouring from his broken heart.
Avoiding vermin, cobwebs and dumb-waiters he pounded on the chickenwire-man's door, screaming, "GIVE ME MY BED!!" The wraithlike door disappeared; Simon fell through wrestling memory and a dusty fridge into darkness and rolled-up rugs and sobbed falling through floorboards and slept on rusted nails.
Simon ran farther into the night, jumping away from cars parked on lawns and tombstones parked on dimes. Tenements surrounded his headlong run, dipping to swipe at his legs and the sweat soaking his tuque. His fever stumbled, blood dripping from his broken mind, tears pouring from his broken hand and screams pouring from his broken heart.
Avoiding vermin, cobwebs and dumb-waiters he pounded on the chickenwire-man's door, screaming, "GIVE ME MY BED!!" The wraithlike door disappeared; Simon fell through wrestling memory and a dusty fridge into darkness and rolled-up rugs and sobbed falling through floorboards and slept on rusted nails.
