March 3, 2009

huh

A soft light crept into his sight, peeking from the shut blinds.The man groped around him on the mattress, senselessly feeling for any foreign presence - only to be greeted by fistfuls of cold sheets. Letting out a restrained sigh and a strained grunt, he turned onto his belly, clutching tight to the pillow. Whimpers mixed with the morning chirps, the light began to intensify and minutes were lost into nothingness.

Standing at the sink, it was a struggle to lift his head. With an uncomfortable motion he took a look at the sack of flesh in the mirror, the miserable waste which he carried on his shoulders. The eyes were cold, the saturation of the green leaking into the cavity within his skull. His head pivoted downwards again, and he proceeded to exit, leaving behind a prepared toothbrush and open tube of paste.

Creeping down the narrow hall from the bathroom, he staggered his way to the couch in the living room. Leaning back, he closed his eyes. The man sank further back, his greasy, dulled brown hair sliding upwards. His eyes began to sting from a cold sweat, paranoia slipping in.

“I’ve really let myself go this time,” he whined. “Why is this room so fucking filthy? Can nobody clean? This is disgusting.” His left arm fanned out to the side, brushing up against a crushed plastic bag of spent beer cans, some feeding the local sugar ants, making a new home in the apartment. He focused his attention to a stained wall, with it hanging a sepia photograph of an open plain, a woman laying in the grass, looking to the horizon. “The day is off today. It may be a good day to pay a visit to some old ghosts, say I.”

A smirked stroked across his face. He placed his head over the arm of the couch and crossed his feet at the other side. Prodding under the couch, the man clutched onto a burdened pistol. He cushioned it beneath his chin, aimed slightly upward into the crevice of his neck.

The light grew dimmer, and a waft of rot slowly lurked its way to the air. The ants were washed from the cans with a thick spew of blood, at this point cooled but not quite dry.

—-wow that story sucked, I’ll make it better tomorrow. sleepy times

•