Flat Occurrences

Charlie Chaplin is clogging at me in my bathroom mirror;

He is smiling a staged smile.

I shake my stance-

a jarring configuration is kinkily salivating back at me.

I dread looking in the mirror.

I feel a daunting presence corrupt my flat.

Blackness illocutes decommission.

Hampered, as I am,

I convoke the claims on my flat,

and blackness disperses.

But a new dispensation is being trajected on my flat:

the light, and the white figures.

I blundered: It was the moon’s beam mortifying my flat.

“I am an ontological representation of nothingness.”

It’s black once more.

I derive my hunting knife from a big father’s boot.

I want to adjust, mould recrudescence;

To strain the outbreak.

I see a foreigner in my kitchen.

He’s muttering hoarse German under his breath.

He wears a tailcoat. His mouth chainsaws sideways in a welcoming grin,

and his eyes palpitate with glee.

He’s shouting long German nouns now.

“Deppmistverdammt!  Übertragunghaftpflicht!”

He’s sprinting at me.

I’m stupored. Oh, senses-