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2009-05-12 - 1:51 a.m. It's the smell. The smell is doing this to me. Though the counters have been disinfected and scrubbed, the garbage done away with, the dishes cleaned, the fridge purged, the smell still stinks that same creeping stink. I think it's them. I think it's the lazy vapors from a million cups of instant noodles and gray coffee. It's the sighs of cigarette smoke through grinning yellow teeth, of burning dust on top of TVs glowing with late night infomercials and grainy reruns of shows long dead. All of this rises up and drifts through the floorboards and the carpets and onto my skin while I sleep. I sleep less and less; I can feel it. It is damp and itchy. In my clothes and in my hair it follows me like a poisonous yellow cloud. It stains the bottoms of my eyes a sickly brown and creates a haze behind my eyes. |
