There are times in which I don't understand this world, and I just try to convince myself that nothing is anywhere. That if I close my eyes, it is all ok. Filth. I wake up one morning in my filthy appartment, a bottle with me on my bed. But I never had a drink. Why do I feel so sick? Is it the morning comming in through my ripped off window, or just the clean stench emanated by my carpets, always the same, many storees below?
I wake my eyes without seeing, the ceiling is a million miles away, and I don't even feel the strengh to stretch my hand... what is the point, when my senses lie to me? Sideways. I turn my head and there is the door across the bottle, deflected and drunk. Nobody is on the other side, nobody knocks on it, then why do I hear as if they called me? Is it me calling myself? Is it reality that I'm trying to escape from?
I know what is out there in the street.. millions of cars, each more similar to the other, faceless surfaces and walking corpses that won't have eyes unless i give them a chance... the day is so warm, heavy as an eternity, the noise so intense, and it is everywhere, it bounces on the walls, on me, on the air...
I hear crying across the wall... it is the person laying down next to me on the bed, who has just seen life through my eyes, locked in her own bricks... she has her story.
Haven't felt like this in years... where am I? Sit down and take my coffee? Open my mouth to accept another minute and wake up concient and drunk another day?

Does it all go away if I close my eyes? Do the monsters under my bed let me sleep if I turn on a light? Will they ever? I don't want to face it, I was already there... where else can I go?

 

Vlad Israfel