I'm flabbergasted by the gaseous flubber beached on the shores of my lawn. I used to go outside and enjoy the Sun, but now...now I can smell their carcasses, swelling and bloating. They are dead, but they still sweat, and talk about their favorite television shows. So much for resting in peace.
I'm tired of the shrill of sirens in the night, oblivious to the comforts of my dreamworld, regardless of whatever woman I'm sleeping with. I can feel the high pitch in my gut, a great annoyance pressing into the pit of my sanity.
"Shut. The Fuck Up."
"SHUT."
"THE FUCK."
"UP."
All I hear these days is noise for the sake of noise. When I've taken enough breaths to fight off the anxiety, and finally get a deep gasp of relaxation, my moment is interrupted by someone talking to a dog, or to a wall, or to themselves. Doors slam in every corner of my mind, a chainsaw massacre of my thought process. Every time a song plays, someone has to sing along or whistle to their own tune, butchering the moment.
All I want to do it flee the insanity and run outside, but I'm surrounded by these goddamn whales, swallowing everything without discretion, like a bedazzled whore out back of her favorite club. The sequence from her dress flags down spectators like shiny gills attracting sharks.
There's a fucking television on in every room, a yellow billboard screaming in the face of every color blind man on every road. It's hard to imagine hating the only color you know. That's real frustration, a mind-dulling ache that commands attention, like blue balls sitting in the front pier, woken from a shut-down night only to be kicked at the crack of dawn, deprived of sleep, but force-fed the notion that deprivation is a good thing.
We are all hypocrites, myself included. Always unfulfilled, never drunk enough, never fun enough, it's never extreme enough, the fall is never steep enough, the wind is blowing, but we refuse to listen. I can hear deaf pranksters slamming plastic bins on conveyor belts, blowing out eardrums and laughing as others jump in pain.
I'm told I can't dislike someone who is deaf, or dumb, or short, or black, or Hispanic, or has panic attacks, or went to prison, or had an addiction. I'm reminded how lucky I am, to understand this guilt, and to repent for transgressions I don't own. I know how God must feel, listening to a group of people he created, complaining all at once in his ear, telling him he didn't do enough, he didn't do the right thing, he didn't give enough, he doesn't listen enough. People demand answers from God, people demand service at a restaurant, people demand money from the rich, people demand jobs from the hard-working and drugs from the doctors. People doubt the hard-work, the doctors, the rich, and then people doubt their own existence.
Sometimes I find the fly-swatter.
I don't speak or express motive, I scan every corner of the house and kill without discretion. Sometimes I let the bastards hang from the wall by their guts. I let them dry-out like the whales in my yard. I amuse myself, batting flies out of the air, laughing at their helplessness, and my power. I win all over the kitchen. They shouldn't have come so close. The flies land on my food, they shit on my leg, they lap up their shit with my food and drag both onto my leg. The flies buzz into my ears or my nose, my eyes, or my mouth. Wherever I swat, they return to gloat, riding the waves of rippling air like juvenile thrill seekers. A bunch of stoned, shit-covered surfers flocking to the big wave.
CRASH.
Hope it was worth the ride.
The bodies wash up next to the whales. Beached and dead. Beached and dead.
I'm running to the desert, but thirsty in Ohio. Maybe I wash-up in Carolina or crawl to the Pacific. Maybe look to clear my mind, get away from the blabbering, the blubber, the masses. I hear there's a perfect storm, where the blabbering congregates, covered in broken glass and stupid opinions, brainwashed in the toilet, flushed out the drain. The overflow spills into the streets, it floods my living room, but I never drift to the sea. It's Fucking inescapable, I'm suffocating.
