Impending

Moments become wet steppingstone over a stream of consciousness. At breakfast, a TV delivers omens with a perky disposition. Buttering grilled bread, distracted by normality, slipping through the well-greased gears of a self-made reality, then a singing hint of burnt toast ripples through suddenly aware nostril hair. What should you do today - walk the mood off or pray brother pray? Will the monstrous appear, its likeness --- cute and kittenish, though even now new velvet satanic horns are already budding. Will the fuzz and fur turn quickly to scabs and scales? Sinister left-handed slaps of hysteria swipe the sweat from wrinkled foreheads. In a room bereft of natural illumination, a light on an open laptop is blinking, imagination types a nightmare on the underside of its blank screen. Brains unchecked by reason, swivel inside their bony portholes, they search this way and that for a more feasible fantasy before this amorphous apprehension emerges fully clothed as an all too familiar mirror image.