Penelope

Penelope!
Who are you?
I don't know who you are!

Do you know what's sad, Penelope?
The corn, the cornfields! They're RAZED! GONE! All I see are small cut stalks, an endless field of cut stalks!

WHY?
There is no cover anymore!
You can't drift into the corn, you can't get lost there!
All there is: flat.
Flat, you can walk through it, but what's the point?
All around you, all you see, is flat, with bits of corn stalks lying there.

Penelope, you must fix this at once.
Or maybe, maybe, Penelope, I should walk to the farther corn fields.
Maybe the farmers there are lazy, or are considerate of my feelings for corn.
Hey Penelope, I sleep under a corn, you know.
Yes, yes you know what I did?
I green taped a corn to the wall next to me.
It has no face - it's empty.
But that's alright, the corn is devoid of a face, but that's because the corn is my canvas.
I sleep beside a canvas.
Maybe in the morning one day I'll wake up and see into the corn, and instead of a blank corn canvas, I shall see it filled.

Penelope, one day, that corn will be a completed canvas.
But until then, it's just a piece of corn plastered with green tape stuck to a wall, which one day will fall while I'm having a nightmare and will no doubt save me from my worst trip yet.

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