The same faces. The same place. A drunken man falls into a pram. The mother too busy sucking on a cigarette not noticing as the drunk pukes all over her baby. Schoolgirls babbling as schoolboys make inane noises whilst throwing litter over dead flowers. Traffic stationary. Trees bending in the wind as somewhere far away a car alarm wails endlessly. My hands are dirty and stained from work. My toes hurt. Walking through a faded parking lot the library greets me with its usual mundane face. Burn it to the ground. Burn the whole town so that I may dance on its ashes.

Heartburn and headaches. A stray dog runs into the road and gets hit by a van. The van carries on driving. I look at the dog with wonder and contempt. Other vehicles drive by not wanting any part of it. Neither do I, so I carry on moving with my bags of shopping. Beer. Candles. Smoothies. It’s cold yet bright. The sun is shining yet it can’t be seen. Not by my eyes at least. Getting home and there’s letters on the doormat. I throw them away and run myself a bath. I take a piss and look at the reflection of my cock in a vanity mirror on the windowsill. Such an ugly looking thing.

The warm water soothes my aching bones. Laying there beneath the bubbles, my mind tries to focus but it’s no good. There’s nothing to latch on to. Time passes unknown. The tiles are numb. The sink so quiet as laughter erupts from someone’s back garden. My belly groans. No food since this morning. Objects take on human qualities, although they’re all the bad ones. Guilt. Desperate longing. Regret. Drying myself whilst inspecting broken blood vessels on my nose, I think about everyone I have ever loved and hated. All those lonely souls. Those people who once shared my attention.

Food is vague. The taste of it not really in my mouth. The house is an artefact. My room a question with no answer. Books look at me begging to be read. I pick one up and flick through it. Drugs and women. Monsters of broken minds. I want to sleep. It’s too early though. Shadows come calling and then it’s night. Strange sounds drift up to me through the floorboards. There’s banging coming from next door. Fingers numb from pins and needles my head hits the pillow. Images I can’t control flicker behind my eyelids. There’s no telling what they could mean. Of what any of this could mean.

1 reply »

  1. Passed this on to Ashley (Syncopated Eye) – recommended you for her blog – strata of the self. 🙂

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