Me Myself and Eye
Reflected and Refracted Selfies
Stuck inside the skull, the inner monologue dubbing faster and faster. Pull out the plug…to no effect; an open tap of babbling words slip-slabbles over the side of the basin. The house? There is a river running through it. From the basin, down the stairs, through the hall the rapids rise, lapping at the walls, dragging books off the shelves and dumping them wherever it sees fit. As it reaches the front door the bucking white horses morph into a human form, opening the latch and quietly letting themselves out into another day. As the river bursts into an ocean, the world stays dry. Confused amid the drumming roar, there is only solace in the shadow, in its silent, wordless observation.