You Stumble Across Three Horsemen

You take one step forward. 

Another. 

Another. 

Ano….ther…An…o..t…he…..r…..And…..another. 

Another.

A snapped stick cements you to the earth, and you turn around furiously in a circle. Where are you? Where did you come from? And where are you going? You step… backwards…and You stumble across three horsemen.

They stand separately and as one.

The Stupid One. The Spoilt One. The Envious One.

The Stupid One laughs.

Pointing their stars anywhere but straight, seemingly missing you each time. You stumble back, but do not move. Perhaps you are the stupid one.

The Spoilt one frowns.

They're curdled over like spoilt milk. What–does it smell like? It brings you back vividly to third grade, someone ripping a marker cap off, flinging it across the room. Just as fast as it flashes, it's gone, and you're left lapping your tongue over an old cavity and you do not care how much it aches.

The Envious One stares at you.

And they see you for you. All seeing,

and always hungry.

You are naked.

And they all want something from you,

Because you can give it.