The End of the world

I awoke around mid-day. White light. Agony.

I buried my head deep into the pillow, unfortunately this gave no reprieve to the pain. My mouth was dry, I could almost chew what little spit remained there. I made a move to gradually sit up, which took all of my conviction. I looked around the room to see bodies strew everywhere, lifeless. I struggled to my feet and moved passed this room of the dead that surrounded me.

Blank.

What was happening?

I couldn’t piece together the sequence of events.

I padded to the bathroom and sat down, realised I didn’t need to go to the toilet. I closed the lid, put on the light which revealed a sunken eyed figure lurking in the mirror. I gazed into his eyes for what seemed like a lifetime. He was unmoving, judging. I broke his stare when I become conscious of the sweat that was all over me, I needed to vomit, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, I placed my head between my knees hoping for this horror to end.

I must have fell asleep because when I awoke my head was throbbing and someone was beating at the door. I flushed for courtesies sake and ran the tap even though I had nothing to clean. When I unlocked the door an unfamiliar figure burst in before I had chance to move away from the door. I cursed and moved through the now open gap, avoiding the gaze of the monster who had just troubled me. I moved down the hallway and went to the kitchen where signs off life greeted me.

“You should have seen yourself last night!”
“Me? You were the one shouting at anything wearing a skirt!!”
“Bollocks! you weren’t even looking for a skirt, anything would do!””

I couldn’t gather what the conversation was about, I just needed water. I ran the tap for a while waiting for the water to get cold, filled my glass that was soiled with a dark stain and then splashed the running tap water on my face. After I had drank far too much and felt sick all over again I moved towards the noise.

I found two of my friends gripping cider bottles and arguing over the nights events. At this point memory, although faded, corrected my confusion.

We had thrown a party, more accurately, I had thrown one. This was my house and these people, my friends, were still enjoying themselves. When my figure emerged in the doorway the two people in conversation greeted me with what could only be seen as jeers, but you haven’t got my friends.

“Jesus, look at you”
“I'm surprised you woke up at all after last night”
“You look awful”

I smiled, laughed and shrugged as if to say everything is fine, it was a good night. Although I could barely remember a moment of the evening, I knew my part was to play along with all the apparent debauchery that had gone on. I decided to enter the conversation.

“So boys” I took a moment to shudder at my opening line, why was I speaking like this? It didn’t feel like me to say this, yet I did. This couldn’t be my life.

“So boys” I repeated “Did I make a dick of myself last night?”
“No more than usual, but there will definitely be some pictures of you on the internet that you wont be proud of”
“Like what?” I asked, even though I didn’t care about the answer, my mind was elsewhere.
“Well, how about you with a yard of ale hanging from your mouth and then throwing up in the garden”
“Or” the second person chimed “you all over Robbie’s girlfriend”

I felt a well of disappointment wash over me. These people were definitely talking about me, flashes of my actions passed through my mind. But all of them seemed more like an out of body experience than actually me. I always felt I was worth more, but what the tape of my memory was playing was not worthy of that at all, not a fragment. I feigned laughter and returned to my room, forgetting the sea of limbs sprawled everywhere. My chest felt tight, like I was trapped in a room with no chance of freedom. In fact, I was trapped in a room with no chance of freedom. This was supposed to be my room, my sanctuary. I got into my bed hoping that the worst was behind me.

When I came too my room was empty. My headache was gone. I got up, dressed in a fresh set of clothes, realising I should probably have a shower. Regardless I went to get some more water; the kitchen was silent, no banter, no noise. The stillness was strange, the ill ease I felt at all the activity and presence earlier in the day had left me. I now wanted someone to be here. I felt desperate, the same shortness of breath I had felt earlier returned, but this time anxiety was joining in. I walked from room to room to discover nothing.

Empty.

The events couldn’t process in my mind. I still had the feeling of too much company on my mind. Yet here I was searching for any sign of life. I needed someone where no one was to be found.

I sat down amongst the rubble of the previous night and felt hollow, unconnected. Everyone had gone away into their lives, their own activities and I remined, no different from the cigarette butts and disposed cans that surrounded me. I phoned several numbers in my phone, no one answered. They must have had their fill. A good night lives long in the memory but someone left behind is nothing more than a footnote.

It was at this moment I saw to my left hand a half empty bottle of whiskey. And on a shelf to my right was a packet of headache tablets. This made sense. Why go on in the moment, I was unhappy with company. Unhappier still on my own.

For hours I stared at the floor, faces moved and played with my eyes in the carpet. I moved to the stereo and put on a song that made me both happy and sad. I emptied the tablets into my hand and looked at my ruin, my salvation. I moved them into my mouth with a steady hand. For once their was no doubt. Only ease, control.

The whiskey followed. Too late now anyway.

I was not worried.

Of all the last things I was to do in my life I made a playlist of songs. Sat down and listened to song after song as I became drowsy. In what will now be my lasting memory the stereo played.

All I want in life is a little bit of…

The End.

Waiting For The Bus

Like every day I wait for the bus…Something that has to be done and yet is the bright spark of my day.

Every morning that I wait for the bus she is there. I was hit by her brilliance the moment I saw her, this happens often and is nothing too surprising. As time went by she began to notice me and we started talking. I couldn’t take my eyes from her.

Everything she was I loved. She had short brown hair, too short by some opinions.

Her fingernails were short yet the only thing more fascinating to me was the air that would come from her mouth on a cold morning.

Now I don’t know where she goes everyday and I don’t know her name, it never seemed like information I needed. I hope for the same reasons she never asked me. But as time goes on I SEE that to her I’m just a way to pass the time.

I never let this get me down.

She talked often of other boys in a way that a puppet master would shake and jolt toys in his control. Each time she describes the one she loves this week I fall apart, pieces of me that will never be found. In time people will ask why I am so faded and I will answer that I am fine but a girl many years ago took the main parts of my puzzle.

Light conversation spills out easily like a dripping tap never giving me enough water to drink from, but enough to know there is water there.

She tells me that she is leaving. Not the city or country, but just her job, a job that will take her on a different route. I felt lost.

Jack Frost has decided to lend me a hand. In the ice of the morning she pulls close to me as the conversation breaks. In that infinite second she can see everything I am. She knows that I think of her every day. She knows that if in the many words I speak I could only say be mine I could rest. She knows that I am struck down by love a little too easy and that gives me the sadness in my eyes.

As quickly as this infinite moment begins it is snatched away. Our carriage has arrived in a ploom of smoke that chokes my breathing nearly as much as that moment choked my heart.

As she smiles and moves away from me I can feel the moment, like the ones that have passed every work day for the past year slipping away. I am frantic. I need to say something in this moment, this vital moment. I move quickly to catch her as she turns quickly catching me by surprise.

I have seen your sorrow. I have spoken to you for so long and yet I never got close enough to see that you are missing. I am not the piece to your puzzle but someone will be.

It has taken me this long to see what’s inside.

And I pray that some day we will meet again.

Just look for me to the west of the sunrise.

And if the time is right, you’ll never know

Void

As time goes by I realise

That I have nothing inside.

My pain, if it can be called that,

Is a representation of my

Hollowness.

Instead I hide behind a

Casual smile.

I can offer you nothing.

I am best serving at a distance,

Never get to close.

When you look into my eyes,

You see yourself.

Time has taught my eyes to be mirrors.

Time has taught me people will

Come and go,

My void is constant.

Time has taught me that.

Let Down

A man will make choices when

Even his friends abandon him.

These choices will lead him

To a place far removed from anything

He thought himself capable of.

From this he will also feel

Freedom.

He will see gold lining on the

Clouds.

He will feel the wind as if

Pin pricks through his flesh.

Word will burn from the pages of

All the great texts.

But when it comes to it.

He has been let down,

And that is unshakable.

In His Kingdom

I have walked with beasts,

Savage and cruel.

Felt their dead lifeless claws

Peel at my skin..

Ive travelled roads where

The cement is replaced by blood.

Almost drowned in a

Tide of waste.

I can hear their howls,

Cursing me day and night.

Poisenous words that

Only hinder, destroy.

Last of all I will see them die.

Each and every last one.

And I will then be housed with them,

In his kingdom.