Saturday, April 04, 2009

Brain Damage

I straighten up and stare at the glass window in front of me.
I can't believe I did it.
I stare out the window and my hands tremble.
And in the vague reflection of me I see I'm covered with its shreds.
They're on my hands. My clothes. My face. My brain. My cells.
My memory.
I start to panic.
I move frantically looking for an escape from myself.
I run to the sink, I open the faucet, water pours out screaming at me.
I wash my hands frantically.
Yellow water brown water dark water, yet my hands remain as dirty.
I rub them hard together. It's not going away. I can't wash it away. It's not going away.
And in my frustration I shove my head in the sink, drown my face in the residues of my sin, hoping the flowing water would brain wash me. transcend me into a cleaner state of being.
I lift my head slowly, water drops fall off my face like sharp knives carving their way down, scaring me forever. Like blood drops, heavy and real.
I open my eyes, and I find them dead.
I look but I can't see. I open them harder, but I find them dead.
All I can see is the bare naked reality of an addiction unveiled.
I close my eyes, only to find that the darkness becomes the perfect slate for the monsters of my memory to unleash. The uninvited guests. The unwanted children. The drenched souls.
That bloody memory of my utter selfishness, flaws and imperfections.
The mere thought of it sickens me.
The mere thought of me sickens me.
My eyes slowly wander to the pendulum of the clock tower in the center of my world.
always swaying, reminding me that each minute is a step closer to the end.
I blink blink. And it's 10 at night.
It's 10 at night.
The Simpsons is on.
I rush to the remote control, turn on the TV.

The Simpsons is on.


1 comment:

Elsede3' said...

um worried!