Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Little Friends

Little Friends

I woke in my bed, soiled with sweat, piss and shit.  I must have been out for quite awhile, days. I puked; empty as a bag of Fritos with a fat kid around.   Haven’t puked like that since I stopped drinking, what a week the last time.  I need a shower, no freaking water, god I stink.  My mouth feels like it’s full of god damn dust and cat litter, used cat litter.

What the hell happened?  Where is everyone?  Everything is in ruins, nothing works, not the water, electricity, my damn phone.  Burnt out buildings; cars, shit.  My house is only one of two or so in the whole neighborhood that isn’t flat to the ground.  The sky has a funny orange tint to it, darker in places, swirling, but diffidently orange.  I wonder if it was from the fires.  Smells weird out here, you can kind of taste it.  A little metallic, like biting on an ol’ penny, coppery like.

It’s funny; I have no idea what day it is, maybe Sunday.  I’d watch football all day if there was football, end my one week of sobriety in a big way.  

I’ve decided to keep a record of my days.  If anyone finds these writings they’ll have a good laugh.  It would be nice to hear a little giggle.  I think it’s going to be a long time before anyone makes a little chuckle, a little snort.  I think seven days since I woke to this new world.  Oh fucking lucky me.

Ghosts.  I thought a saw a figure of a man dizzy in the over hot stagnate air of summer.  I might just be seeing things, hoping for company, anyone, even a nut with a top hat and a lit candle coming out his ass would be welcome at this point.  Haven’t seen a soul.  I like to be alone, but this is a completely different kind alone.  I don’t like it and it makes me feel all creeped out, jumpy I’d call it.   Come to think of it, there are no birds either.  Hadn’t really thought of that?  I’ve been so wrapped up in moving, looking for something to eat, a drink of cool water.  No dogs, cats, people.  Now the birds.  I use to like birds, fed them in my yard.  Seems like an eternity ago, has it only been a few days?  Fuck. 

How time flies when you’re alone, filthy, slick with sweat, and sick with the shits.  It feels like the endings of the flu.  Is that where everyone went, Super flu.  I’d just like to have a few answers.  Where the hell is everyone?  Silence but for the wind in the trees.  Wait a minute, there’s no bodies either.  You’d think there’d be bodies everywhere; this town has fifty five thousand and a few people in it.  Oh and I haven’t swatted a single fly, mosquito or any bug for that matter.  Nope nothing but orange sky, that funny smell.

I really have to work to keep my shit together, my mind is wandering.  I think it’s the silence.  It’s just not right, no sounds of trucks, cars, airplanes going over, not even a fucking fly buzzing around your head.  A week or so and I’m starting to notice all the little things that are wrong.  I’m getting real close to freaking the hell out.

Day Eleven
What a night.  The nightmares are getting bad. They started slow but now they’re a freight train running through my head every time I sleep or try to take a nap.  Fuck, I’m dreading trying to sleep, but it’s what I really need right now, just some good sleep.  I’m facing another day of walking, looking, trying to find where the world went.  I’m tired and dehydrated, Fuck me.

Day Fourteen
Up at the crack of dawn.  Reminds me of a joke I use to know.  I’d die for a cup of coffee; die the death of a happy man.  I just don’t think it’s gonna happen.  I think I’m depressed.  Fuck it, I’m depressed, dehydrated and I’m starving I gotta find something to eat…….. hahahaha, now that reminds me of a joke I use to know.  Hahahhahah I’m drifting.  Off I go, hip pity hop………….

Day Sixteen
Ahhhhh  Seven Eleven, an oasis in the sun.  Here I sit in desperation, tried to shit and only farted.  God I can’t even remember the stupid jokes of my youth.  Well at least I’ve got a bottle of nice hot coke.  Most left in a soaring fountain of fuzz, but hell it’s wet and stale crackers are damn good.  hahahahhaha.  

Day Twenty
I know I saw something; fleeting but something, bird, person or a damn ghost.  God damn heat is so bad.  I haven’t pissed in hours.  Should have jacked a backpack, blanket, something to carry shit in.  I could have had another hot, hot off the shelf coke.

Day Twenty Three  (I think)
I’m not thinking straight anymore, I’m sick again my pants are caked with dried shit, can’t even smell the shit anymore, now that’s nice.  Hahahahaha I found a good thing!
I think I’ve lost weight, the wife would like that.  I wonder what happened to her. 
Ditched the belt, to damn long, found me a nice little length of rope, now fall down you fucking pants.  Shorts, now that’s an idea.  Shitty shorts, perfect.  Find shitty shorts, check.

Day Unknown  (I have no idea, two three days, I think, more?)
I don’t think I can keep up with the writings, who fucking cares, who’s gonna read them?  

I’m done.  I can’t go any further………………. This is shit, why fight it, I’m just so tired.  The shade here feels so good.  I’ll just sit here a little longer.  Enjoy the view, pencil a few thoughts, lay my head down rest a while.

I got me a friend.  No gobs and gobs of little friends.  Did I tell you…….. No I don’t think I did, I found the flies!   There is life in them there hills………..hahahahah.  I cut my leg a while back, fucking metal, thought I was gonna bleed to death.  Yesterday?  Two three days ago, a week no, oh it doesn’t matter much.  Its nice having friends again, they buzz; crawl in-en out.  Sometimes they land on my face, my nose.  I can smell them.  I can hear each and every one of them, little friends.  Talk talk………. I cry, my tears are gone too, just like everything, gone.  It’s time to sleep, I promise to write tomorrow, but I’m just so tired.  Little friends, so nice, little friends………….. talk, talk, buzz, buzz.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Dusty Road

Dusty Road

I’ve walked these paths, roads for time unknown.  Dusty, dust on my boots my clothes, my hair, it’s never ending.  My load heavy, straps cutting, bending my shoulders.  Boot soles worn, tatters of what they once were.  I thirst for sweet water, the babble of a brook, roar of a river.  Sounds come to my ears, distant, things from the past, sweet gentle tickling my senses.  I’ve seen lands that amaze in beauty, lands destroyed lay to waste.  I walk on I’m a traveler of this world.  This is my quest.  I live by what the land gives me.  I ask for nothing more, gives thanks for what these lands provide me, I walk alone.

I spy a ghost of a man, dancing in the swirling dusty heat.  A traveler also, he too bears a heavy load, bend from the dusty miles; his clothing in tatters from time and distance.  We pass, not a word, not a nod of the head.  Our eyes don’t meet, neither looking for conversation.   What would one say, both with our own thoughts, none too share.  There are miles to pass this day of days

I trek hours alone down this path, I find my mind returning to the dusty heavy burdened traveler I passed.  Thoughts of the familiar, could I have met him before.  I think not, I’ve never traveled this land before.  Just another land upon lands I’ve walked.

The day grows old; soon rest, one more mile and this day’s journey will be done. My thoughts now of only rest; a Spartan meal to see me through the night.  

I spy a black object in the path ahead, a man’s purse.  It must have slipped from a pocket. It must have fallen from the dusty man; I’ve seen no other traveler this day, hours have ticked since our passing; no hope of its return.  I have not the strength or energy.  Maybe a name or address, I’ll have it posted to the owner when a day takes me near a town.  

I stand swaying in the road; all the life has left my legs.  I stare at the name in the purse; my breath comes in short gasps.  The name is mine; papers I’ve saved, notes I’ve placed in it for future times.   The thoughts of the stranger returns, ‘how can it be, I’ve never passed this way before, but my purse is here in my hands, found on the road.  The sense of the familiar, the dusty man heavy with burden clothing, boots in tatters. Neither he nor I giving the other a glance a word of encouragement.

There has been little sleep this night; confusion is my only companion, thoughts of the traveler, thoughts of how things could be different if I’d give a friendly nod, a word, a short minute of conversation.  The new day will start soon, my burden to bare another day of dusty trails, paths, roads without end.   

I walk this life alone.

From the Ramblings.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

I seek you not

I seek you not

I seek you not. Your breath lies dead on numb lips. I think not of you or your name, nights no longer smothered in dreams of you. Any thought of reunion long lost on tearful sleepless nights. You were here and now you are gone, not to return. Hurtful memories are all that are left. I miss you as one misses the slight sting of the blade. Agony is thoughts of you bringing dreaded days of dead memories.

From the Ramblings.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Face of Hate

Face of hate

I’m not just mad or hurt.  I’m livid; words cannot rightfully describe my anger.  You’ve fucked me, chastised me, disciplined me, embarrassed me, stole the respect from me of my class, you've took monies from my family.  I don’t want justice for the wrongs you’ve heaped on my shoulders, I want revenge.  Oh, not the nice clean tidy revenge of you losing you coveted post.  I seek the kind of revenge that one only gets by having hands elbow deep in your bloody fucking stinking guts.  I want to hurt you like you’ve never dreamed possible.  I want to look you in the eye as I pull your festering organs from your sleazy rotten chest.  I want to be very clear with you; I promise to do the very same with what you call your loved ones.   I shall not hurry, not rush, dismiss this from you fucking diseased brain, hast makes waste, and I’ll not cheat you of what you and yours deserve; I’ll erase your bastard linage for all eternity.  I will defile you’re wreaked corpses in ways you cannot dream to imagine.  This I promise.  Take this, my solemn pledge to your fucking muddy hole in the ground.  May the gods forever defecate on your rotting corpses.   AMEN.

From the Ramblings

Monday, November 12, 2012



Money; what you ask is money?  Power, power to buy, impress, manipulate, destroy.  My money buys me fame, the best seat in the house, the prettiest, the smartest; I crush my enemies under its weight.  It puts me in company of the powerful.  I make, change, and seduce laws and its makers.  I have the largest the best homes, cars, servants of my every need.  Need I a beer, ass, it’s just for my calling.  People seek my attention my opinions, they believe that because I have money, my ideas have come from divine wisdom.  I speak, people listen, I have money.

From the Ramblings