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My Love For The New Moon.

They took me away last night. It was just past midnight. I must admit my singing my songs of praise in honour of the new, fresh young moon were a perhaps a little too loud, but that was just my enthusiasm for being one of the first to see the new moon appearing from behind a cloud. To me she was playing hide and seek. Why do these men in their snow white uniforms always put that hard rough jacket on me I find it very rough and uncomfortable then the room they give me all painted white. No lovely colours. I do so like colours they make me feel wanted whereas white puts me off and the man they call a psychiatrist always asking those stupid questions, One of his favourites I have come to expect and he never fails me. It is, If I bite into a green apple would it be sweet or sour. I know what answers he wants and as I feel sorry for him I always play ball and tell him if it is a green apple then it cannot be sweet because it is not ripe. What about Granny Smith apples they are green right through their life but when they reach a certain size and are ripe they are still green and sweet.

But we all know that some green apples are ripe others are ripe when they are red.

Another of his favourite questions is do I like women, My answer, what women do you mean the young women the middle aged or the very old women. Next question do I like my Mum, what a stupid question of course I like my mum, She cooks for me she clears away all that I leave lying around, she does my washing why should I hate my Mum of all people. The next question is the one I really like. Do I play with myself? I now am in my glory do I play with myself? What this supposedly learned man is really asking is do I Masturbate, No Mr. Man in white I leave that to people like you, I have two or three Girl friends and when I am in the mood I play with my girl friends it is nicer and we both my chosen girl friend and I take precautions. We do not want a house full of kids, I hate the way I make so much mess for my mum to clear away but it keeps her happy and She does not get much attention from my Dad he is always out with other women.

My white room gets on my nerves no pictures. The window is too high up for me to look out of.  If my psychiatrist knew about my little friends I am sure he would take them away from me. I have not told you about my friends but as you are only reading this and do not know where my white room is I feel I can let you into my secret. I have two flies that are also prisoners in my room. Not like me they flew into my room of their own free will. I feed them by leaving small bits of food for them. I have to be careful though, as some idiot is forever coming to the door of the room and looking through a small round peep hole. I have good ears and I hear that cover of the peephole being opened and sometimes I see an eye that has moved. I know they are watching me both by day and by night.

What they do not know is that I have this thing about the Moon, especially the small new moon. I love to sing and make up my own songs which I sing to this sweet little fragile new slip of a moon that in the course of one whole month grows into the full round moon that floats so Majestically high up in the night sky and I will let you into another secret if one looks carefully one may see the full moon by day. By day she does not need to light up so high but when it is dark she shows in her full glory. And another thing why am I considered deranged just because I treat the new moons as my children. If I had children from my girl friends everyone would expect me as Father to sing a song or two to my kids so why take me into the building where white is the only colour known and my only companions are if I am lucky a fly or two. The peephole does not bother me I have only mentioned it just in case someone decides that you too must be taken to this place or one somewhat like it. Take this my story seriously it is very easy to get into one of these places and there are many psychiatrists about, take my word for it. your scribbler Bern.