Scabstraction

“Why do you keep shredding them into pieces?” I asked.
“Do you need a reason for everything?” You asked back.
I kept silent. I keep silent.

“But our brains keep talking all the time. Non-stop. And if I could shut my ears from my brain, I would’ve.” Added the man with incredibly small ears and abnormally big head.
“So the ear works backwards too. There must be earholes inside our faces. And then, it’s the same with our nose, isn’t it?” Continued the big-headed man.
“What about our eyes?” I have asked you that question many a times before.
“We are blind” – you stated nonchalantly. Still wielding a pair of scissors, legs folded, body rocking back and forth. You looked up, without lifting your head.
“Stop observing me.”
I did but I didn’t mean to.

Amused as you suddenly were, you looked up into the skies.
Alas! There isn’t a speck to be seen. The sky wears an overcoat tonight. Opaque and furry, like the Russians.
Slight irritation encroached upon your eyes.

It’s itchy in here. It’s the humidity. It’s the sunken wall. It’s the shredded roof. It’s the wet trousseau.
It’s nothing.

Eyelids heavy. Anklet feet move no more. Drifting away...you smiled. I kept waiting...awake.