Invisible

The room is painted beige green and has four chairs, one occupied, no windows. The sound of the sea still manages to rage in, and a silent boy with a bored expression begins to write.


I’m sitting here! With hooves and golden wings, flying on kites, then sinking into oceans. I am your tortured soul, and you are my enraptured muse, now listen! Listen, until you can’t anymore. Whoa, here’s the scoop: Today, I’ll ascend. I’ll ascend, because I saw a boy yelling at a girl, and then they held hands and kissed. My claws are sunken. Here, I’ll ascend, because I heard two professors chattering in the snow, because my mom is getting a divorce I foresaw, because my brother went to the loony bin and came out a quiet man, because the Africans call me cousin, but I don’t pick up the phone.

What do I mean? I mean I am witness and inheritor of the promised land of temporal development, the linear land, and I deny my birthright. I refuse, with rudeness, to kiss and make up, or even to kiss at all. I won’t be fooled by marriage’s happy occasion, or the reformed man’s wise words. No! Now listen, dears. Listen to my quiet, needlessly enraged words, because in a moment I’ll be a cliché going against the norm, standing upright and nonchalant as I listen to you.

My words make no sense? Maybe, just maybe (nothing additional), you, with your degree, job, or family, just don’t get it. Fuck! I’ve got hooves and golden wings and you can’t see youth’s prize possession. Enlighten yourself when you stand across from me on the train, or sit next to me in class, while always wearing your Nike, Burberry, North face disguise. Just do it. I am listening, reader, I promise.