Kings Along the Highway

And that's the problem.

I spent today in bed, curled up in a ball. I didn't have stomach problems. I wasn't suffering from some form of ailment. Well, not physical anyway. I reached that point in my thinking, that I do from time to time, when I take stock of my life and where I am. What I lost and what I've gained. Everything goes into the spreadsheet of my mind and I look at the totals line...and everything comes out to negative numbers.

I feel most alone when I do this shit. Most alone, and the walls cave in from the ceiling, laying down on me like a deck of cards, and I reach up with both hands, body and head, holding back the walls to keep from being crushed underneath. I'm suffocating, I can't breathe. I'm swooning, dizzy, frightened. I curl up, bringing my knees to my chin and throw a sheet over me.

Am I crazy?? What am I doing with my life. I've opted to do nothing. To go nowhere. I don't even want to survive any longer. I want to exist. There's a marked difference between the two. I am lost in a blazing sea of fire in a tiny wooden boat, bobbing over flames. I'll be a cinder shortly. An ash. I am indeed the loser here. I've lost so greatly that I ignore the fact and continue to play on the field, long after the lights have been turned off, the opposing team has left for home, along with the audience.

I'm alone.

I would like to win this. To survive this. To come out on top one day...but I don't see a path to that. I don't see a clear way to throw the ball. I just see me in the middle of nothing. Waiting patiently for something to take my head off. Whoosh, lifting it cleanly and bloodily from my shoulders.

I fall asleep, curled up in the fetal position. I tumble through dreams where I meet a beautiful woman, and after fucking her, find out that she is a vampire. She sucks my blood, but not enough to turn me, just to make me a form of slave. A servitude that I run from. I haul ass back to the city, back to my life, only to find that I am not welcomed. I am found out to be a vampire and the city turns against me. I run back to my lover, only to find her red assed pissed that I ran off, and she in turns tries to kill me.

There is a showdown on a single street in New Orleans. I'm constantly running, that's the only way that I can stay alive. I'm thrown out of a window by my lover and sulfur and ash wings, fleshly and leathery like that of a bat's, sprout from my back and lowers me gracefully to the ground. I am surrounded by the hated and heated people of the city, wielding knives, torches, nail studded bats and hand guns and I hiss at them. My wings flap but they are too weak to carry me away. I am surrounded by the mob and I await the first stone, the first bullet, the first punch.

My eyes open. I am sprawled on my bed. I am afraid. I don't move, even though I haven't eaten all day other than a tin of sardines. I rise and get online, watching text scroll. I'm not in the mood to jump into the chat...but I find something interesting. There were two visitors to my private channel. This made four this month. The room was working somewhat. I was reaching the sensibilities of some on the net. I am smiling. Now, it was all in the timing. All in the confluence of events. I am proud. I see how people love to fuck. Everybody loves it. So the term has meaning that can be invested into it. Fuck will either shock you or interest you. That's the power of the term. It has force, it has delicacy, it has height, it has depth. I'm proud to be able to use it freely for my chatroom. The Topic reads: "C'mon in over 40 crowd...and get to fucking!!!" Ha ha ha. That makes me smile. The over 40 crowd needs to get altogether and fuck.

Hey...that's just my impression. I'm not one to be a prude about these things.

With trembling hands I take ahold of my pills. I notice that I missed yesterday's dosages. I'm sad. This is probably where my panic attacks, and depression is stemming from. It's warm in my room now as the sun sets. I am too lazy to put on clothes and go out for something to eat. There is no food in my room. Nothing to eat. I have tons of sodas and sweet things...but no food. I wait until I'm hot, and then rise, put on clothes and march out of the room, heading to the elevator, which is working, and take it downstairs to the lobby and outside into the evening heat. Yes, it is warm out. I walk down the block, scanning and finding women in low cut blouses. I am enamored. I am in love. I head to Blimpies and order a twelve inch long Blimpie Best and then I go to the store where I ran into the One Eyed Whore last night and bought a Lipton Iced Tea. Ha ha ha. No whore.

I make it back to my room after stopping at the security desk for my mail, then head into the elevator with a young man holding up his pants with a fist full of waistband, and one shoe on his foot. He looked like shit. He looked like I felt. He was probably quite happy.

I took my happy pills when I got home. Ate my sandwich. Got back online and watched text scroll.

I'm happy.

I don't want any more vampire dreams though

Hobobob