I hack up a mouthful of phlegm and lob it into the toilet where it sticks against the porcelain for a bit before sliding down to meet the pissy water and sinking out of sight. When it does, I scratch my arse and move to the kitchen. Got a bad stomach. Got a bad everything. Have some toast and tea to make it better, but it doesn’t help much. Hobbling outside, I light a smoke and pick up a stick off the ground. Turning it over in my hands, I feel dizzy and sick and decide to get dressed and head out someplace. While I’m putting on my clothes, I choose the next town over. It’s got a big library, and shops that aren’t boarded-up. The taxi comes and I sit in silence in the back. The driver doesn’t attempt small talk, and neither do I. It’s a match made in heaven. When he drops me off, I tip him one pound. When I place the coin in his hand, he looks at it, looks at me, then gives a slight nod of the head. It’s like I’ve made a new friend. To satisfy my hangover, I head to Burger King. Burger King’s my favourite. They do something to me, almost like the mouth of a lover. Well, not quite, but it comes close. Placing my order, I stand around staring at people as if they were aliens. They are aliens, at least they are to me. Or maybe I’m the alien? A visitor from some other place looking for a way back home. Some woman with a shapely bosom smiles at me before collecting her food and walking off. See what I mean? Who the fuck describes a woman’s tits as a shapely bosom? No one I know. Not that I know many people, but you get what I mean. She was hot though, and when I take my order and sit down by the window and begin eating, I imagine undressing her and digging my fingers into her belly much the same way a cat does that weird thing where it paws you. Y’know, like how you would knead a ball of pastry. The chatter of those on the other tables is hypnotising. The endless babble. It makes me wish I were like them. Wiping my mouth with a serviette, I lean back in my chair and people watch to pass the time.
A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.co.uk
A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.com
“The chatter of those on the other tables is hypnotising. The endless babble. It makes me wish I were like them. Wiping my mouth with a serviette, I lean back in my chair and people watch to pass the time.”
I smiled in recognition.
I wonder how many of them wish they were more like you? x
It makes me smile knowing you do.
I would say it’s an interesting thought to ponder, yet in these parts most just look at you with disdain 😉 x
That’s so sad. I think I thought the same until recently. I started voicing it. I’ve found some likeminded souls. If we don’t get the chance to chat, we send knowing looks and smiles.
Imagine you’re somewhere else, you know…amongst your people. I do that all the time. x
There’s probably a planet out there somewhere for the likes of us. A good planet where we should’ve ended up. But we took a wrong turn and ended up here instead x
I believe I belong here, mostly, though sometimes I feel displaced. Then someone I admire writes out loud what I’m thinking and that makes me happy. I don’t want to belong entirely, but I’m not sure there’d be as much inspirational shit to write about on that planet?
I think I’d like to just set up sticks somewhere far away. A lone, rocky globe with some nice views of the Milky Way. I’m a sucker for solitude.