Something Chilly This Way Comes

The loud static and screaming have taken up residence inside my head again. Background radiation hiss and mummers of discontent, snippets of things that could have been, shouts of things that didn’t. Elongated shapes distort the sound with struggles to be set free. Pushing and pressing against a pharmacological wall. It has a taste of cigar smoke and grey ash, the feel of a chill worrying at your ankles, all moving about in the darkness behind eyelids closed, the scent of dreams gone sour when you wake up after a bad night and try to shake it off over a breakfast of snap, crackle and popping cereal. I can see snippets of a filmstrip off in the blue expanse, shuddering and stuttering though a bad home movie I am not in, but know the ending. I am too lazy and tired to try and tap into it, the invitation takes too much effort, the courtship too damaging, and the end result too pathetically predictable. Somewhere out where the wind starts blowing. Somewhere, something is scratching to be let back in from the cold.