Entropy

When I dream I'm never myself. Always a wave. A cloud. Or a mountain. Something immensely tall. Or high. Or strong. Something that has eons to solve its problems.

When I dream I'm never myself. Because what would be the purpose in that. I have to know everything I'm not before I can be certain of what I am.

I'll find out. Brick by brick. Comb by comb. As the hairs fall out of the doll's head. Eventually we'll see what she's thinking. As the clothes get dirty and the shoes grow old. We'll discover her weaknesses. We'll pull out her plastic tongue and find the words still glued to it.

I'll dream and see her dirty dresses in the yawns on the floor. Its wide mouth in a checkmate with its narrow heart.

Entropy. The science of loss. Confusing people for mice. Lives for mazes.

Entropy. The science of little stitches keeping big wounds closed.