The Host

All of a sudden help is on the way. Attention continues to convene, meeting an embodiment of fear. “Spectators! The body is not moving.” Commence precautionary measures until they get here. A look at your watch. Begin to provoke him with speech, soliciting questions for answers. Anticipate an incoherent response, maybe a subtle mannerism just to know. Stare at your watch a little longer, as the softest rock grates against my skin.

I’ve been invited to dine with others, a compelling manifestation. They raise a glass to toast my arrival. I will not be able to visit anymore (fragile nature of our being). What do we have to plan for? What do we have to plan for? An overactive imagination and the irony of death—life’s most interesting principle. A redundancy that accounts for everyone. That we cannot transcend or displace. Reducing life to choices with no options. Unaware of what is not tangible, I’m going to find out. Going to find out. Approach the designated seat at the table and reach for my glass. It has already been filled. I’m going to find out. Going to find out.

Flashing lights converge on the city street. Parties mutually interested agree to part the way. Let the professionals handle this. “Does anyone know what happened? Does anyone know what happened?” I guess a first impression means a lot. His vital signs have slipped below normal. He will not heed to acknowledgement. “We have to get him out of here!” He will not heed to acknowledgement. “We have to get him out of here!” It’s not long before we proclaim him.

Voices whispering around me increase in intensity. They almost shatter the glass I hold. If I only could identify their source. I need the subtitles slower, I cannot read them. How do I ask to gain clarity? This will be the first time if I ever address you, surpass your attempt at a chalk tracing. I’m not getting better. I’m not. I’m not. I’m not. And it’s not getting better. It’s not. It’s not. Mistress-antidote cycle calling. It’s not getting better. It’s not. It’s not. It’s not. And I’m not getting better. I’m not. I’m not.