And I hear her cough throughout the day as she shuffles about beneath my floorboards. Nailing a picture frame to a wall or maneuvering a desk across the room. I lay and I let the sounds permeate my apartment. I welcome the invasion. The orchestra of moving in. Getting settled.
It's only later when I'm greatly disturbed. Only after I've taken the time to lay down and close my eyes for the evening. When the smokey gentleman who haunts my consciousness chooses a new victim. Chooses to leave my side and stalk someone else. And though this seems a favorable event, maybe even an opportunity to obtain some peace, he chooses the girl downstairs. He chooses this girl at midnight. When the darkest of the world seeps from the shadows and into other's lives.
And she's unassuming and accommodating, the way his prey tend to be. I hear her offer him a glass of water and a pillow for the place he chooses to sit on the floor, which, of course, he immediately accepts.
Then I'm being shaken by his grating voice. By his nauseating rants. By his anarchistic view of the world and his incessant urges to harm other people.
And she's oblivious. She plays the part he's designed for her. That he's laid out.
And I can't listen to the slaughter. I know it too well. I've been around him too long. So, I put on some headphones and turn the volume up. I cover my eyes. I even grab the bottle of whiskey for a swig or two. Anything to create distance. Anything to make a little room. Maybe there's peace over here. Maybe I can uncover it for just a few hours. Hold it close. Return it when I'm done. Just long enough to cross over for a little. Please?
No comments:
Post a Comment