Page 49 - 2019 Priory MUSE Magazine

Refracted Paranoia by Cameron Cronwall
Perpetually, eternally, endlessly, relentlessly prodding me deeper into my own head The trundle of cars pulling in and out ofthe driveway,
Streaming to and fro through the pockmarked screen door Mark and Igor and Sasha and Kostya,
Fried eggs and unappreciated tomatoes and last, and likely least, cucumber slices. With the smell of raw onions and cold macaroni,
And package as instant coffee, just add scalding water And the sorry flakes they chip off rusting steel beams Ripples of self-destruction waver in their modest, menacing, confident host. And the tea so sweet you can see the
The onions sting and the coffee burns and I feel my heart But food is food, drink is drink and culture is an obligation, No, it isn’t my time yet, today can’t be wasted. Lose its rhythm amid the sudden interjection ofsucrose...
Most say nothing for they have not the words to express their sorrows Some call it a golden opportunity, others say the house always wins Depths ofthe past onto the superficial, shining face ofthe world Mourning what could have been, casting the forlorn
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Flip-phone wrenching me from slumber Saturday night in the musty twin bed, And my heart beating so fast I couldn’t sleep Sure, I’ll be there, see you tomorrow, she said
And waited and lamented and rejoiced And I woke up and waited and waited Over the trees to grace my bloodshot eyes And watched the sun peek its lonely head
The shrieks of children young and blind And the noises came, brooms in the street