posted on Oct, 19 2014 @ 09:05 AM
I work hard at keeping myself in the dark. Anything less than total obfuscation is disintegration, squared. I focus on the physical pain; it's easier
to medicate. The trouble with hitting rock bottom is that there never was a bottom. If your not careful, you keep sliding down, forever. That's hell,
I guess. Further and further from your own light.
I started sliding on the 1st of July. I'm not sure what I was doing on June 30th, but it must have killed me good. Everything after is just falling.
I cry out "Save me!" as I descend into the cold darkness of my own inner-spatial awareness. At least the experience is nothing like the storybooks
say. Points to the universe for novelty, I guess.
I woke up the day after I died to a world of collapsed event horizons. My foundation had been built on uneven terrain, and my home -- my sense of
being -- lay in ruin, on it's roof at the bottom of a ravine. A cold, polluted stream runs through it now. There is an ugly poetry in that, at
After that, things got worse. My wife disappeared, abducted by aliens. What returned was a creature of hybrid-sentiment, wrapped around an advanced
sensor array. It follows me even now, and questions everything I say or think. Obviously, I am not strong enough to drive it away, even if I know what
it is, but I take little comfort from her android DNA. Even when it lies still I listen closely for its whirs and clicks.
Days turn into months. I cling to my life preserver, and it fails me, again and again. There are no helping hands here, in the place beyond the place
of dead-end roads. The truest expression of love is a tightly balled fist to the face. Her kiss is a slow, hesitant morphine drip, and I melt into it
until there is nothing left but the thrum of ultraviolet rainbows, falling into hydrocarbon seas on a distant plane.
What is real? Nothing here is solid but the pain. I don't know what part of it is from the holes in my soul, and which is from the holes in my cape.
I muse at the darkness, and we share a smoke. There is subtext here I think, but I am falling too fast to catch it. The world shakes and shudders
again, than -- drops, from seam to sky like the vertical on an old television set. Previous trials and ordeals suddenly feel safe and comfortable.
She stayed long and is still here today. She doesn't have anywhere else to go. I curse my good fortune, and write down my pain.