My Neighbor Bill Stopped Cutting His Grass

It’s almost as if your blood is sour

he said.

You could pull out your heart and examine it

if you like.

It would be an attempt to describe its leanings

don’t you think?

I feel like I’m talking to myself…

He had been haunting me like a ghost

for several days

and I had learned to ignore him, sort of.

I named him Criticus, which he didn’t appreciate

but his constant gentle nagging had begun to wear on me.

I have been trapped in this dark room

for a long time

and my puppets as I call them

appear every now and then

to break the silence

and feed the void.

I am The Director

the main mask and the keeper of personality.

I keep the noisy insiders at bay

as well as I can

but it’s a losing battle.

So I let them speak

and try to keep them from wreaking havoc…

I name them and study them

in the framework of this fleshy statue.

And every human being I have ever met

has them, but most don’t notice;

they call them “moods”.

Criticus sighs a lot and I can tell frowns

when I yield to the weaknesses and foolishness.

I will not let you despair he said,

we have work to do.

The doorbell rang, and I turned toward the door.

 

Share: