Monday, November 7, 2011

Chapter 4 Lost Soul, Hard Road

Somehow, sometime, I fell asleep. I awoke, dizzy and in pain from sleeping in the chair in front of my computer. After some aspirin and a cup of coffee, I reviewed all I wrote and I found page after page of sadness in the form of bad poetry. I deleted the bunch of them. I had read really good sad poetry from real poets and I wasn’t but it was the medicine. It gave a path for the pain to flow although it seemed to find its way back in because I felt no better today than yesterday. Well, maybe there was a microsecond where I didn’t feel like I was carrying a soaking wet mattress on my back. One dug up from the landfill. I needed a distraction so I went back to the grocery store though I felt about food like I felt about air. Had to have them, didn’t take pleasure in either. I went up and down all the aisles looking side to side or down at my feet. Everything I saw had the appeal of cardboard. I didn’t like any of it. Everything came to a halt when my cart hit another. For the first time in days, I wasn’t thinking about her or about losing her. Cans had hit the floor, bottles rattled. The recipient of my inattention had let out a squeal.
“Sorry, sorry,” I said. I bent down and picked up the cans. I set them back on the shelf. I stood up and apologized.
“That’s okay,” a woman about 70 said.
I could tell I had frightened her. I reversed and went around her. I committed to paying attention from now on but only enough to miss other shoppers. I didn’t want to look at anyone. I got home without any further incidents although I had found nothing appetizing. I had returned to the same old dull house with its reminders. The blue wall, her color. The framed picture of an old house, her picture. The flower vase on the mantle, dishes on the table, table cloth beneath them.
I went and sat in the recliner in front of the TV. I needed to see if a movie could steal my attention from myself. Every woman on the screen reminded me of her is some way, looks, attitude, situation. I even tried ESPN but they have hired women. I was out of luck. I couldn’t go to bed, that was the worse. I was going mad. I turned in circles looking for anything, one thing that she had not touched. I went back to the computer. She was in the words that issued from my keyboard.
Life wasted is wasted
Move on, move on
Heaven’s promise
Erase life gone wrong.

Before I could change my mind, I raced to the master bathroom. I searched the prescription bottles and found two. I swallowed both of them without counting the number of pills. A mouthful. Back in the kitchen, I chased them with Vodka. My head felt ready to burst claustrophobia tore at me. I wanted out. I had to get out. I sat back in front of my computer.
I follow a path you won’t take
The love past I won’t forsake
The memories I just can’t take
For the leaves I have a rake
I smiled and noticed my fingers slowing
I have a dog his name is jake
My ass is bitten by a snake
Alike a lake
Sleep began to win over.
Amne amd make


  1. Awww, now I'm depressed! And feel like shouting "don't do it!" But it took me right in to the center of the story. Good one!

  2. I can actually feel his pain. Wow.