Keen

it said                                                                                                                                                 

           the creepy little silverblue spectre out of the corner of his eye

hed look

itd be gone 

until the next   
                      Keen 
its sole word  syllable  pronunciation       on moments in his life

Keen

Whasso fuckin keen  hed say trying not to turn his eyes to its pulsating pale blue glitter at his peripheral

and hed wait

it  still there

he thought he could make out its steely sneer as they played their game of cat and mouse

each knowing  as soon as he turn to look it full on  itd flash brightly     disintegrate

before he could fix his eyes

then

        like a flashbulb gone off  a black amoeba went around in his vision blinding him

and the whole while hearing its taunt  its breathy whisper  

                                                                                                 Keen

he woke one morning from a restless night  not much sleep    had catnapped

he didnt bang his head the day or evening prior

he made a French Press of Honduran beans and thought to up his ante on the day
which he rarely did   
have breakfast

dry toast and three fried eggs

the eggs were double-yolked

Keen

The fuck  Wha 

a gleaming let in through the kitchen window
and turning to look his vision was engulfed by a brilliant throb of blue light

and blinded

                      Keen
was again in his ears

since that weekend morning he had been inextricably knotted to this   thing

and inside a week he blatantly referred to it aloud as his Monkey

in short order
                       the few he associated with also learned of the Monkey

they could afford him little comfort  not that he was looking for comfort  it was more so because he was making them uncomfortable

he had them looking for it when he heard the bastard chime   Keen

directing them precisely to where it was

they never saw a thing  

not ever

over time they became concerned he was becoming psychotic   dissociative

depersonalising

which made him laugh hardily

Christ you yahoos  Think  Hasnt that been my bedrock  my queer shadow at the walls no matter where the light is coming from

But youre audibilising it   as an entity

And  again  dont inanimate objects usually garner my attention

Ill deliberately pay attention to them   They continuously steal my attention from you

Yes  but you havent called any of them by name

Monkey  Aint much of a name

HA  Like you give great names  Fatty  for your dog  Skinny  the tree in your yard

Hey  This fucking Monkey is around me more than you are

     Keen

Maybe if it were more communicative

Less single syllabic

Its maddening

Its shimmering over in a corner  at the edge of his vision  didnt bother him

he saw plenty at the edges  those margins borders of his vision   of his consciousness

that didnt sweat him

what sweated him was its vigilance

a Fuckin Peeping Tom

remarkably he was able to hold his tongue when thinking that

he didnt show that hand

one morning  several months later  he caught an angle

a line on his deliberative Monkey

shaving

its reflection off his shaving mirror  a small circular freestanding mirror that took more teasing than he did

accused of as a stupid possession

how could he possibly make that little thing work

I aint got a big face or jowls

friends chided him he couldnt dress in it

I got to see myself why

Thats why I got eyes in my head

I thought

Always gotta somehow make it tough on yourself  or make yourself stand apart from the rest of us

Hell  Im just thinking when things gets tough   thats gonna be a helluva lot easier on me than you

Just thinking ahead  a tad bit furthur down the road

Things havent been getting easier  have they

the Monkey crouched in the bathroom window sill  sparkling its blue presence at the side of his face

coloured as if off  slow   moving    water

the bait  a lure

but he didnt have to take it

the mystery sifted  evaporated  

It didnt catch him  watching It  angled in that cheap worthless mirror  as he was told

worth   evidently like beauty  is in the eye of the beholder

Monkey  MonkeyMonkey

It watched him waiting to pronounce its  Keen

Itd Keened his straight razor shaving too many times before  before he quit jumping at its word and nicking himself

he hadnt used his styptic pencil in a long while                                                                                                             

blood humored it  evidently 

but he  because its voice never waived  never altered its inflection                                       

                                                                                                           he expected it
it became orthodox
 

You little fuckin Monkey

apparently  they werent going to exchange words this morning

his Monkey had put him up a syllable

and going up a syllable on the supernatural was a small victory

he thought supernatural  at least  might look better than it did

if that fixture was its face and if its mouth was in its face

its twist and constriction likely left it to its bleat of   Keen

if he were compassionate or sympathetic he might have felt bad for it

otherwise

he supposed

   

                      he wasnt the only thing not bathing or dressing before a huge mirror

   

evening, Day between two Ts,  29  4. 15

1841, Thursday,  30  4. 15  Ryans boithday

 from a Keen dream