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2006-01-15 - 6:02 p.m. There's Anarchy on the streets. I can see it from my windowsill. The line of white on the sill makes me wonder if it is actually there. It's been too long since sleeping. But I can't stop now. Screeching all around me, crows in my hair, in my ears. The man is talking to me again. I hear his voice, but I am too far into this to stop anyways. I hear the screams. They are mine. My mind is burning. I can see them killing each other. Police blood is on the streets. It's the middle of the day. I wrap the blanket closer. He is still talking. It's too much too soon. My mind is burning. I need to drink something to put it out. Water, bucket, ice, head. My mind is freezing. I need anti-freeze. My mind needs to breathe. Brandy. But there is no money. I see the line again. I need anti-freeze first. Wine, whisky, scotch. But there is no money. Lager it will have to be. 1, 2, 3. Done now my stomach aches. I am bored of this house. I see the line again. I need music first. "Put it on!" I screech. He does. I relax. The screeching is higher now, but more regular. I see him again. He is moving towards the window. "That's mine!" But it is slow motion coming from me. I'm too far into this to stop. Why won't he stop talking? I see the wall. Why is it that colour? I see the police blood all over the inside of my head. "Why are they killing each other?" I see blood in his nose. "Because it's Tuesday." I hear him say it, and it is suddenly clear. I wonder if it is time to leave. I ask and he says no. I need to sleep but we can't. Not with the animals on the streets. It's another long night. Four hours to sundown, then eight of darkness. This is no way to live. I need food. I see the blood in his nose. Then I see someone else. Where did he come from? "Get out you fucker. Get out of my house and my head!" He didn't move. I see him reach in his bag. "Is there food in that bag?" No answer. Why isn't he saying anything? Why does he have that twitch? My mind is on fire again. I have to concentrate before he sees the flames. I need to know what his mission is. Blood comes from my mouth when I cough. I see police blood in my mind. Where did all of that come from? My coffee table covered with dope and booze. "Give me that! This is my house, and that is mine!" I see brandy. I see Absinth. I lick my bloodied lips. There is still no answer. I wonder if this is my house. Where did this glass come from. My god, it is filling on it's own. Have to drink it before it overflows. Shit! It's full again. I can't breathe, my head is on fire. |
