It rained all day, and I woke with a hangover while trying to decipher some dream involving an ex-lover- though the visions had faded before I got the chance to figure out what they meant. Bedsheets kept me safe. They wrapped me in warmth like the embrace of my grandmother all those years ago. A bath washed away my sins. Sat there with the window open and the sound of church bells ringing in my ears, my mind was temporarily clear. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s a nice release. I’m not evil, just a little confused. My desires are different from yours; that’s all. I want to be a cat running through heavy rain. Each droplet a bomb as I stick out my tongue with excitement. Sex and drugs and the blah blah blah culture that appeals so much to others of my generation holds no worth to me. It’s all in the magic of thought, not the cheapness of flesh. Escapism through imagination, not through forced attrition. The sound of breaking glass. The scent of foreign soil, it calls me back home to where I once belonged. Cups of tea. Changing bed sheets for my cancer-stricken father. Distilled water in containers that adorn the fridge. A war against nature. My heart breaks at the thought of being alone, yet I know this is how it will end. The songbird flies and the songbird lies. Panic attacks as the air in my lungs dry out, there’s only wonder and faith to keep me safe.