Saturday, May 29, 2010


He stared out the window, watching people walking by on the dreary and windy street.
Rain drip dripped onto the windowpane, creating a soft rhythmic pitter patter, that broke the otherwise intense silence of his apartment.
Though the glass, muffled sounds of traffic wafted past occasionally, creating a strangely melodic combo with the raindrops.
He sighed and scratched his chin.
So. This. Was. It.

He was a thirty something, single man, working at a job he didn't want, in a city he didn't care to be in. Almost palpable a wave of desperation flowed through him.

He touched the moist glass, with his right index finger, and drew a smiley face in the condensation created by his breath. As soon as it was made, the edges of the drawing started running, and droplets glided down, creating little rivers in the condensed water. The smiley didn't look so happy. It was a droopy mess.
"You too, huh?"

Suddenly the droopy smiley turned a bright flashing red.
Outside an ambulance passed at full speed.
Lights flickering and sirens wailing.
The light and sound spectacle shook him out of his reverie for a second.
He followed the vehicle until it was out of sight, then dried his wet index finger on his jeans.
He shook his head and learnt back, with his eyes closed.
In his head the smiley kept flashing red, every time he blinked.
He felt a little queasy.
"Fuck this shite" he thought.
In a sudden move, he opened his eyes, jumped off the window sill and walked into the room.

Clothes, books, magazines, dishes, papers, his laptop, some empty cans of soda and a pair of old binoculars were strewn all over the floor. His dog Skittels lay lustless on a pile of dirty laundry.
He sighed again and waded through the mess towards the kitchen to get a fresh can of soda from the fridge.

On the fridge door there was a photograph of him in better times, with an ex girlfriend.
He looked at the picture, he ripped the picture off the fridge and tossed it in the trashcan.
Then he reached in for a can. Closing the fridge with his left foot, he opened the can. A spray of fuzzy drink sprayed out of it, soaking his t-shirt.
"Fucking fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!!!!
He yelled, tossing the can in the full sink.
"Fucking, crap shit raaaaah!!"

Dripping, he walked back into the room and started rummaging for a somewhat clean t-shirt.
Skittles looked up, but didn't move a muscle until he threw the wet t-shirt in her direction, which made her growl. "Sorry Skittles, this fucking shite ain't your ain't your f..."
He reached down to grab a wrinkled light-blue t-shirt with a faded image of a '70's muscle car on it. As he took it in his hand, he suddenly spotted something laying underneath. Something surprisingly colorful in his room full of subdued colors.
He took a closer look and, after putting on the t-shirt, took it off the ground.

It was a pair of rocketship underwear.

He looked at it in confusion and smiled.
Those weren't familiar to him, but they were awesome!
In a sudden impulse, he took off his jeans and his blue checkered boxers, and put the rocketship underwear on. They were snug, but fit him.

Chuckling he pranced through his room.
His demeanour had suddenly changed 180 degrees.
Skittles looked at him nervously, what the hell was up with the boss?
He walked over to the soggy window and threw it open, letting the cool outside air in, and soaking the window sill in rain.
It all seemed so darn idiotic all of a sudden.
Stupid droopy smiley.
The mess in his room, in his life.
He let out a roaring laugh, prompting some of the pedestrians below to look up at him with bewildered looks on their faces.

He yelled down, and then climbed into the window sill to emphasize his words.
Somebody below yelled "Weirdo!"
He didn't care. For the first time in months he felt alive.
He stood there for a few minutes, while the raindrops dripped onto him. His body shaking with cold and excitement. So. He. Was. Alive.

He took a deep breath, and another, and let the fresh air fill his dusty lungs.
Very faintly he felt a soft pull, yanking him towards the outside of the window.
He resisted, not wanting to drop the 4 storey fall to the street below.
Then the pull got stronger. And stronger. And stronger.
He fought it with all his willpower, grabbing onto the inside of the window.
But the pull was stronger than him.
In one ferocious yank, his grasp was lost, and his body fell forward out of the open window.
He closed his eyes and screamed "NO!!!"
And felt the rush of the wind and the patter of the raindrops as he fell.

But...there was no crash onto the pavement.
No, cracking bones.
No nothing.
Just the soft breeze and the raindrops....

Carefully he opened his eyes.
And immediately let out yet another roaring laugh.

He was flying....

Friday, May 28, 2010

Midnight howls

So, last night my neighbors were fervently fighting and screaming again in the middle of the night (3am to be precise) This time, however, I channeled it into something creative.

As brains clash and dissolve
Mouths spit fire upon
burning coals

Scratching nails
Ripped clothes
Palpitating veins

Lost echo's
Howling screams that
Can't be voiced

This isn't
No more

But nobody listens
To the voice of decay
Only at self