I see you there in the corner, dancing in mockery of me, and I must say, in spite of the resemblance to mine own, that you are insistent, you dancing lizard, you. And even now, as your reptilian eye flickers with patronymic distain, I gaze back unto you, equally contempt, because one of us should not be here, one of us is not real. You, little scaled dancing lizard, have shown me enough of your routine, and I wish to watch you dance no more.
The sun has begun to set and what happens next is all too familiar for me; the gray wall next to your stage is usurped with the tidal urgency of a golden beam of light cast through this window until, finally, it reaches the ceiling and is replaced with the shadow of your apparition. Sewn on end to the tips of your claws, the shadow is your puppet, and your dance, oh that dance, is a routine of which I can neither turn my attention from or allow myself to join. You, dancing lizard, have burdened me for far too many sunsets, for far too many puppet shows, and I will no longer be your captive audience!
Yet here we are once more, you and your green keratinous scales, and I with my goose pimpled flesh. Your tail, wound tightly at your posterior, bobs to and fro, acting as a lure for the ill-lucid, and I, incapable of negating its transient twirl, have only one choice to make—to consume or otherwise, be consumed. I’ll say it again; here we are in the cold shadows of dusk, locked in this cell of a bedroom, predator and prey, dancer and audience, and as the sun sets lower still, it begins to become difficult to tell who, in fact, is the chameleon and whom is the neither…
If it were I, that was meddling maliciously and methodically in the dusty corner of another’s life, I too might try to act so inconspicuously latent, that through my deviously hypnotic performance, might pounce with a cold-calculated hunger onto my captivated onlooker. In the time just before however, I do not think I would gaze so devilishly into the eyes of my victim. This is just cruel! Cruel in that; like you, I am hungry, I am cold, I am tired, and I need to dance for my meal. You see, lizard, we are both the same in this way, the minute distinction being; I would not stare. I would not stare…
Of stares; the stairsteps of dissonance, which you have forced me to descend, are steep and they are slippery. Once before, I’ve nearly slid into the abyss, into the obscurity which you’ve learned to thrive, into the nothingness where you, slithering beast, dine. And as I step, carefully, towards the bottom, the stair from which I previously fall dissolves into darkness the moment my foot is relinquished from its surface; and in this phenomenon, I feel my own claws growing sharply into the confinement of my boots; and in this stairwell, I feel more and more comfortable, yet more and more confused. Spiraling downward, the staircase coils, not unlike your serpentine tail, which is a part of this larger, more ethereal motive—to make me feel as if I’m in control, as if I have chosen to take this path which winds treacherously into what is impossibly unnavigable, into your stomach, I’m sure.
If it were to be, that I was to walk willingly into the bowels of your digestion, then it may be best that I do so now, so that at the very least, I will suffer from your stare no longer. And if it were to pass, that inside your body, I discovered myself to have remained conscious, then maybe it is also best that I relinquish my body without concern for the pain associated with doing so, because like the stairs from which I fall, my appendages shall dissolve too, and likewise, I shall remain comfortably dissonant with this loss.
Dancing lizard, watching you move, I cannot help but relish in the despair of which you’ve inflicted upon me. You are an animal, and I am a man. You are what consumes, and I am what is consumed. You feel no remorse, and I feel remorse for you. So, which is better, my reptilian cell-mate, to be the dancer or to be the audience? To be cold-blooded, or the warm, tasty meal?
I see you there, in the corner, dancing. Upon arrival of these last descending steps, the sun will begin to rise and, with it, I too shall find my way back from where I originally fell. As the light consumes this room, I too will consume you, dancing lizard.
Until next time,