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C Dylan Bassett

from The Invention of Monsters / A Performance in One Act

 

[scene]

The deer sound like murder, the rain is nervous hands. No one know how the baby got in the microwave and no one asks. A snake eats its own head. The baby is me at a much younger age. The baby makes a sound not even God can understand. My bed is empty with my in it. A black dress hangs on a hook. An effigy.

 

 

[scene]

Now that the policemen are here, the sex can begin. The men start their engines. They remove their hats as if at church. Cut flowers bleed down the throat of a bottle. Imagine a world where everyone plays with dolls. Already I know too many things by what they are named and not by what they are. The eye sees what it’s trained to. I’m only shaped like a man. Seeing a hole in the ground I see myself.

 

 

[scene]

I touch her lips, forgetting she’s not there. A stranger is dangerous because of what he knows. The world overtakes the world, smoke rising from a cup of tea in which an airplanes descends. Stars are a thin line and we see a thin line. A knife, if sharpened, is not unlike goodbye. An elephant drifts across the ocean floor.

 

 

[scene]

In an act of complete physical subjection, the pupil allows the professor to plunge his knife. And no birds sing. When the elevator goes down it is for good. The queen is in her bed, doing something beds are good for. A doll is passed from boy to boy at a campsite, the sound of scissors cutting. By the blade I am disrobed. Beneath my robe a sexier robe.

 

 

[scene]

 

These are not my cheekbones but I wear them like I always do. I am the tiny person inside my skull. I am not used to being alive. The world is plastic apples. Death can be whatever in hindsight. A light shining 24 hours on a parking lot. A mountain in a swimming pool. You misunderstand, my funny demon voice is my real voice.

 

 

[scene]

Lipstick on the tissue, blood on the lawn. We are what the war stands for. Flies take the skies. This smoke is not dense enough to hide what we do not want to see. The president plays his violin, his certainty still intact. Out of delicacy, the woman casts her clothing across the floor. While we watch the clock, another clock watches us. Power manifests itself as an inferiority complex. Policemen direct traffic. Money changes hands.

 

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