the television from elsewhere
wears the hearts of strange world on its screen
this time in hues of red
haphazard long tables
end to end, angled
protruding like sore furniture
on their flat bodies, laptops, running programs
foreign to coders
one hears half comedy laugh tracks
as the bulky man in costume descends like a thief from the ceiling
or from hells in the sky ports above
is he disguised as a robot or dark crusader?
is his vest metal or kevlar or devilish?
singling out a black computer
he holds it to his chest and ascends
as if the machine was an infant, listening to mothers’ heartbeat
you can see the back of his torso
made up of two dog torsos.
brown fur on his left, white fur on his right
two anal cavities and no tail
possibly, you see hooves
you had fallen asleep in the wine red mansion
body, hugging the rails of the serpentine staircase, sideways
like a weird bat embrace
there’s no strain
holding your body up that way against gravity
it’s easy to sleep.
You were filmed.
much later, the thin witch with an elongated face explains the ritual done unto you
“your many hearts were rewired, veins untangled and arranged,
vertical to your body
like straight highways between nodes of palpitations.
we set you up like an altar
where people can pray to you,
1000 prayers in a sitting, pilgrims searching for answers.”
you know it’s time to leave the compound
a woman known as sister is also preparing to go
as if a night of chalets has come to an end
a white dog, with large. black fleas
comes to take you home
#irvingpaulpereira #dailywriting #onericnovel