The catherine wheel of chaos

There is a motion detector in the corner of my room that has recently begun to flicker, which lead me to believe that there was someone else there, other than me. I figured that eventually it would die out, it did not, it stayed, on red, there is someone else there, in the room, every night, every night, every night, someone else there, every night above my bed.. It had evolved from a red lighthouse, flashing, warning, that the intruders were apparent, to a still, constant, illumination, that cried, always there, never going away, constant presence, tick tock tick tock, always there, grab the switch blade on the bed side cabinet, because the primordial dwarfs had figured out the glass cutting sensation, in order to enter the gap in the bathroom window, to rape and pillage me. Tick tock. Little mother fuckers, always finding a way , always looking like a giant human, only smaller, but still able, to strike in the smallest of gaps, to steal, those primordial dwarfs, so innocent looking, with the minimal of a leg up, to perpetrate the tiniest of cold covered window sealed gaps, lap tops and microwaves, grandfathers heirlooms and car keys infested safes pillaged, and raped. I awoke the other night and saw the metro Goldwyn mayor sign, burning over a city in India, poisonous gas pouring in to the clouds, dropping droplets of poisonous gas on the city of Mumbai. The citizens had no chance, as it infiltrated their buildings, castrating them in their beds. I was east, in Delhi, watching the whether warnings, preparing, staring at the sky, bastards, metro Goldwyn mayor, polluting, absolution, raping me and them, like the primordial dwarfs, through the tiny bathroom windows.
Then I awoke. I have a huggie wrinkled dog with a complete bone that sits beneath the motion detector, so far under that I have judged its distance, three quarters covering the red lighthouse light. Yet, now it has moved, half the distance, which means one of three things, the house is subsiding, the dog has moved position, or the dwarf has scaled from the bathroom, in to the bedroom, and is now on top of me. Contemplate, adjudicate, decide ,and be dammed, switch blade out, moving earth. Alive, animated dog, or dwarf, either which, switchblade switch, I’m ready.
The messy India situation has moved on, god bless MGM, although I cant forgive them for scolding the patrons of Mumbai, and preparing me for the decay that may have occurred in old Bombay. But still.
I’m a manic.
I can not get to sleep at night. Only one way ,and that is with a suppressant, and I have decided I do not want to do that anymore, deplore me , go on.
My psychologist , what are you, a monster?
MGM, they launched the blood cloud of creation on the city of Mumbai! With their weeping signage that killed and destroyed. The wrinkled dog on my subsiding house, tugged by the primordial dwarfs, grabbing its bone, all helped, that one night. That was the fight I fought against in my manicured duvet of sweat.
Wake up!
A night I did not dislocate my shoulder, like the first time, when I was sixteen years old.
My name,
I’m glad you asked.
It’s a presumption, yet I accept it.
Wake up!
There are no garden birds singing
The Indians are no longer burning
The dog, the primordial, red torch burning
Are no longer
Mumbai
MGM
Dog bone
Wake up
Sixteen years old
My name is,
Aldus Phyllis.
It was says you! at that point that I grabbed the mahogany ball of wood at the top of the banister, with so much anger I could not mentally let go, with so much physical pressure I tore my socket away from my arm, and collapsed.
Sixteen years old. She destroyed my mind. I told them not to call the ambulance, and slammed the pain back in to the socket myself, and skipped out in to the sunset, drank whisky and contemplated death.
“Aldus”
Cry my name mother, cry it till I have found the earth worm with the black heads on the tips of my nose, buried so far in to the earth from my pain, its tail ,will reveal ,where I am.
Grab the sides of your head, and play with them, manipulate them. Your thumbs are only manipulative to caress.
Mum?
Gran?
Mum?
Indian rain cloud of film destruction?
Mum?
M
G
M
That destruction
Tatwyn?
That smaller fellow that we looked alike
Yes, that wee man that skipped amongst the blueberry bush and leaped amongst the
Pronounce it right
Mother afraid I can not cover for you anymore
The little , hand held towels
Im Aldus
Leap into the casino and a roulette wheel with the black or red evens
I would love a lamb sandwich.
The destruction continued into the night time mom and I was held accountable for the actions why I was wearing cream coloured jeans and a tank top to match and yet fly red match, in a coffee coloured world of espresso boiling on top of a Glasgow hob, silver. Impressive, before we had even begun. Double or nothing?
Double I ache
For sake ,at this point in the morning.
Her friend was everything I was looking for
Ten screamed faces we discussed before
Chiseled liked a roman statue
Whose eyes cried on a marble plinth
Catching the rain, hoping to explain, and yet the chisel
Allows me to drop.
I was hoping, to let me free.
Awake.



M J Martin.