And when you see me in the night you don’t see me because I am a shade colored with your sister’s hardest pencil. My eyes sharp in the dark, her pencils sharpened, too, tightened with my broken knife as I slip it between things, as I slip it between you and pry the doors apart and on the other side a whine, an animal, a whine that sleeps inside your head, a dumbness I can cut and eat and chew and expel. You know how many thoughts there are, how many candies made from metal. I break my teeth and still the dream is coming on too hard, is coming on too frequent but not recurring. The whine on the other side an art-rock drone. You know her art is so very real. I know nothing. I hate anything like cats. I don’t hate you, you see. I don’t hate cats. I want to play all night and that’s why I’m out in the yard alone, waiting for you with a sheet wrapped up into a shirt.
