wide-eyed underneath the sheets

missing breakfast i came home realizing that i have passed the threshold of my hunger. and the white cat stares at me from the window. do you hear the skips of my beating heart? does my breathing betray the nervous gaps in between my phrases? i scramble. then i chase my dreams on an empty stomach. those visitations, tints to the black and white image that haunt my waking life. ill equipped i am awakened by own sobbing and heavy heart, my father tells me that it is time to let him go. lifting the veneer of authority elusive all those years. 

wide-eyed underneath the sheets, i long to escape from those dream-like events. and what of the cat? he sits there reading my every breath, listening to my gestures and drawing the insides of my depth. meanwhile i tune in to the void between my legs.