Grotesque

It works like a dream catcher.



I was dreaming, and you walked silent and effortlessly into your house, of course I am there as well, since I am asleep. I struggle to attempt to meet your nonchalance in our conversing, it's not difficult to tell who's winning. There was a funeral I was attending, which is my sole reason for being in your living room, a place that could only be less comprehensible to you for me to be in real life. I tell you we are leaving, though in your presence all those who surround become less than shadows I cannot even see.
Stripped naked of all that comforts and conceals me, you left, and I looked at myself straight in the mirror, and hated that person, and everything that was, if I was part of it.