My wandering soul, like a fearful, diligent ghost, slept in my room somewhere yet it seemed in the restrained chorus of nightmares and stray rustles, tiny threats, the yellow moon flickered silvery.
In the next room my father and mother snored loudly. Their nervous, otherworldly unconsciousness wandered in and out of their souls. Above my head swam the jackal heads of my shame, grinning in death. Fluttering and dancing in pitch-dark depths.
Their grinning sniggering made me urinate, my sweat stumbled between the shutter-traps of my forehead. And in the astonishing heartbeats I experienced, there was an unexpected turn. In opening doorways, my mother's worried angelic gaze comforted, watched.
I, a boy accustomed to another state of repose, vomited from my aching, lost soul the childish curses of my childish soul until I succeeded in cursing this muddled, undeserving world. With an aching heart set for a heart attack, drenched in sweat and smelling of urine, I wept and moaned till dawn.
All I had was a creaking, crunching bed and a few teddy bears by my side. I should have crossed the fused lines that the Moiras might have seen long ago. I seemed to have understood this long ago. Others were always the endings of the complex mind. Other is the wishing of the soul-mother, the sweetheart. I have a dread encoded in me, like a helpless homesickness before an uncertain journey. It's a pity that I couldn't find a truer connection, so many I gave up voluntarily - though I searched for it diligently. I must be sinking into some spurious existence!