Fly Talks . . . Pillow Walks

It was night when i stepped into the bathroom to take a whizz. Turned on the light and stared, locked in an alfred hitchcock, frame of shock, unable to move my finger from the wall switch, so glued my attention to a black, throbbing blob on the floor . . . (Taking A Leak) I must maintain distance, i affirm. It is essential for self preservation. Tis a matter of trust, coupled with desire, not to be fooled by a soft outer wrapping of flattery or genteel ways that may hide a proclivity to be hard . . . . You think i am loveless, he queries, a little distraught. That i am a fiend, dressed in manner to fool . . . (Distant) Are you an addiction, the cup of coffee, first thing, i need to get going? Is that what you want? I make you a slave's master, dependent upon you for love? NOOOOO! . . . (Miss You, Never!) When from this tiny pile of broken remains, a phantom body rose and winged its way to the end of my nose. What!? i croaked, hardly believing what in fact could still be breathing. A body of light it was now, hovering just beneath my brow . . . (Fly Talks) A rustling felt in son's direction, signals broody disquiet. I goad him in return, suggest . . . go to hell if this be not your heaven. Tis your heaven, makes my inferno, his reply . . . (Corner Of Mind)