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SON:
You never wanted me to succeed
You always thought I was not good enough
The questions and doubts you threw at me
Nothing was sacred to you
Not your wife or your family
If you never wanted us then why did you do it?
Give me an answer, scold me, push me away as you always did
Tell me, tell me father?
What do you see? – she whispers in his ears
He takes a deep breath and blows away the dust mustered across the bolted window. Keeping his crossed arms on it, he overlooks the ocean of habitation. Among the hustle bustle and the lazy Saturday afternoon commotion, he hesitates to answer.
Have you seen those eyes? – he whispers back
She unwraps the cigarette pack and lights one up
What do you mean? – she says gently in a nonchalant way
Eyes!
Have you seen it?
The black spider walks on my green wall. Searching for the unknown, the next hunt. The steady head, the infinite legs and that ugliness, creeps in me. I see it crawling, pacing those gaps, closing in, conquering the vast green forest which lay upon it.
I get the urge to squash it, to devour it, send him to the gates of Valhalla!
To feel like God, the creator, the destroyer.