Alright. We're here again. Well, at least I am. Bearded and on the floor. Sitting. Existing. Occupying space on this creaky, hardwood floor.
How far have I come? Where was I before? Is there any direction?
And I have some company. A witness to my decomposition. The feline stationed to my right. Staring with green eyes that settle on me with some unrelenting revulsion. Some unappeased disgust.
Am I so grotesque he can't look away?
These clothes haven't left my skin for days. Marked by the scent of cigarettes and whiskey. Coffee and grime. What is this stain from? Blood? Mucus? Mine?
The apartment I wake in is bare. With my head on the floor I can see all the dust, fur, and dander in the morning light. And I must pry the sleeping bag from the cat to stay warm. My only other option being the half empty whiskey bottle by the bathroom sink, but daybreak seems a little early to throw some back, even for me. There's a pizza box on the kitchen floor, though I can't recall the last time I ate pizza. Scattered papers in the hallway. Trash bags by the front door. There is not much going on here.
And there never really was. Kinda what it all came down to. A need for constant stimulation. A steady stream of outlets for my dwindling attention span. For my incessant unrest. For me.
So, what do I do? Baltimore? Is that where we're headed? Back to the city? Who the hell is steering this thing anyway? Is there a lever I can pull to request off?
And, as before, maybe this wasn't the first entry I had intended to submit, but it'll stand as such. It'll have to. As these days ceaselessly press into me, this will have to do.
No comments:
Post a Comment