Putrescence clings to me; the odious shit-smears of a past I can’t escape, let alone understand, stick to my skin like pine resin. Everything occurs in fragments. There is darkness, and then there is illumination, pictures in my head that I can’t turn off. It’s like flushing a clogged toilet: the muck just keeps rising and swirling. There are so many things I wish I could delete, and other memories I almost wish I could recollect, little puzzle pieces that have gone missing forever, that tie this whole mess of who I am together.
In these dark moments, I float like a pitch-black nightmare in unspeakable solitude. When the lights come on, and I see, in my mind’s eye, all the humiliating and degrading things I’ve done and endured, I just want to look away, and disappear into a dark, bottomless hole. I have no use for this world. Let it fester, just the way it is.
But this is just another spell of depression. It will pass. I will endure. On a positive note, I’ve begun drawing again. It’s been so long since I’ve done so that I’d almost given up on the idea, but I’m pleased with most of what I’ve managed to produce so far. Maybe I’ll get motivated and work on that book of poetry I’ve wanted to compile, or an anthology of short horror fiction like I’ve always wanted to do. I keep worrying I won’t be good, or that people will laugh at my attempts… I abhor laughter. It’s the cruelest sound in existence.
On the other hand, I beat a heavy crack addiction, and continue to beat it with every day I spend clean. If I can do that successfully, maybe I’m stronger than I think.
Time will tell…
Towers of Rust 