I Am The Dispossessed

Knock knock. Who’s there? No one. The rain has poured, the door has jammed shut. It will not let me out and it will not let you in. The house has spoken one hollow word: no. A threshold has been reached, the portal cannot be breached. The birds sing from the trees, but the melody falters and stutters at the glass. There is no exit, only reflection.
There are blue rats and she-wolves in the room with me. Urras and Anarres colliding, blank frequencies broadcasting the crackle of warring stations. A voice whispers in my ear: hot time, cold logic, anarchy and violence. A message is being received. Dot dot dot dot, dash dash dot… Dot dot dot dot, dash dash dot… Dot dot dot dot, dash dash dot…
The river is running dry, sticky silver streams congealing in the veins. A blue moon cowers behind a filthy cloud. I practice a mercy killing, but the moment has not yet come. A message is being transmuted by a blind alchemist: base metal, twisted elements and magnetic grace. I hold my bearing straight as the arrow swings to point back at me, into the heart of nothing.
I was a vessel but now I am empty. I was a carriage, now passenger-less and free of destination. The tunnel has been closed and I am sealed in, under the city, marooned in the suburbs, orbiting a distant star. The western queen is dead, the eastern king has not yet risen. There is no authority. There are no co-ordinates for the place where I have ceased to be.