You Digress, I Digress, We All Destress

My room is a sidewalk away from a road, a block away from a pub(slash)bar, right next to a massive tree and (at night) a neighbour to tireless crickets.

With the window open, I can hear the foot steps of every pedestrian strolling to and from their respective night shift jobs (or perhaps a foray with a lover – maybe a spy on a mission or a criminal from a mission).

It gets terribly hot in the summer but I am left with a choice between no sleep or drenching my bed in sweat (the latter wins all the time) although it must be said the older I get the less I do anything “profusely”.

My hearing can be impeccable, particularly when the drone of daylight and day time hubbub subsides and the still of the night rises like a ghostly fog – an ethereal entity which (peculiarly) amplifies all the little noises and agitates all the discreet senses:

I clean my feet (to make them soft) so I can rub them together whilst in bed (such a lovely friction which takes me back to my childhood when I shared a bed with gran’ma and I would rub my feet against hers during the winter to warm mine (which always felt like the feet of a corpse) even to this day my feet are stubbornly cold in the winter)

Funny how the smallest things give rise to often buried memories…

But I digress.


An Unfamiliar Corpse: A Journal

Entry By A rattled Little Thing

Of course I do not want to go to that wretched death gathering people call funerals; or to a farm in some misty land to buy the body parts of pitiful creatures.

An astonishing behavioural display; moving mountains for the dead!

Never have I seen such a reclusive group of people make with such haste plans of any kind!

It would be ludicrous to expect some form of courtesy from this band of relatives to refrain from asking me such uncomfortable questions as “do I not want to tag along?”

With my nerves? Perhaps they wish to prepare for another funeral.

It is no wonder I have grown to become such a fragile thing tugging at the last petals of my sanity; they are barely attached to my withered personality as it is!

I sigh. So easily am I rattled. Offended and taken off guard!

What tomorrow is to most is in my mind a bat-swinging apparition in a dark room looking to be the end of me.