HOWL
The keeper.
It no use refusing to accept the situation as real.
I feel my face red, the pressure in my lungs painful, the anticipation of inhaling too great.
The overwhelming hunger for air, my body fighting to contract my chest and exhale, regain full power over of it’s passive functions makes me feel strangely alive.
Killing myself a little makes me feel a little alive.
It’s makes no sense, but what does?
It no use either doing it any longer.
Neither not breathing or refusing to believe Mister Way and the talking coyote are not real.
So I stop, or if you prefer to think of it the other way around, I begin.
To breath.
Exhale, inhale.
To believe.
Carbon dioxide out, oxygen in.
Automatic.
I’m Alice stumbling down the rabbit hole, Dorothy along the yellow brick road, Belle kissing the beast.
The dog looks at me agape, as if I just materialized out from thin air.
He scans me for a moment, his hazel eyes identical to Mister Way’s.
“A redhead.” He whispers hoarsely. “They are looking for her, Gerard.”
Mister Way or Gerard as the dog calls him, stares at me, ignoring the coyote.
“It’s getting dark.”.
I nod slightly, feeling weak beneath their identical piercing gazes.
I can see myself in their eyes, broken and lost.
“We must move somewhere safer.”
“Are you fucking crazy? It’s no use hiding her. He will find her.” The coyote’s voice almost like a growl.
Then it happens again. It’s as if someone else has taken a hold of my body. The words escape your mouth in a barely audible whisper:
“Who?”
The coyote’s ears perk up, Gerard’s eyes light up like a cat’s, yellow and bright in the twilight.
“The keeper.” he says grinning.
I hold my breath in, fear creeps into my cold skin.
I refuse to beleive.
Atomatic, just like breathing.
This is just a bad dream.
I feel my face red, the pressure in my lungs painful, the anticipation of inhaling too great.
The overwhelming hunger for air, my body fighting to contract my chest and exhale, regain full power over of it’s passive functions makes me feel strangely alive.
Killing myself a little makes me feel a little alive.
It’s makes no sense, but what does?
It no use either doing it any longer.
Neither not breathing or refusing to believe Mister Way and the talking coyote are not real.
So I stop, or if you prefer to think of it the other way around, I begin.
To breath.
Exhale, inhale.
To believe.
Carbon dioxide out, oxygen in.
Automatic.
I’m Alice stumbling down the rabbit hole, Dorothy along the yellow brick road, Belle kissing the beast.
The dog looks at me agape, as if I just materialized out from thin air.
He scans me for a moment, his hazel eyes identical to Mister Way’s.
“A redhead.” He whispers hoarsely. “They are looking for her, Gerard.”
Mister Way or Gerard as the dog calls him, stares at me, ignoring the coyote.
“It’s getting dark.”.
I nod slightly, feeling weak beneath their identical piercing gazes.
I can see myself in their eyes, broken and lost.
“We must move somewhere safer.”
“Are you fucking crazy? It’s no use hiding her. He will find her.” The coyote’s voice almost like a growl.
Then it happens again. It’s as if someone else has taken a hold of my body. The words escape your mouth in a barely audible whisper:
“Who?”
The coyote’s ears perk up, Gerard’s eyes light up like a cat’s, yellow and bright in the twilight.
“The keeper.” he says grinning.
I hold my breath in, fear creeps into my cold skin.
I refuse to beleive.
Atomatic, just like breathing.
This is just a bad dream.