A shit afternoon like all others

I stand looking at the dirty tiles, there is piss all over the floor, almost knee-fucking-deep in it, a piece of gum or something lays in the corner accompanied by a lone cigarette butt and as I piss I wonder why I even go home, why I even allow another breath into my lungs, I zip up and take out my Graf pen, tag all over the wall, write “people=shit” in large letters, replace the cap of the speed marker and flush the button.

As I walk across the desilet room I catch my own eye in the blood stained mirror, I start the hating all-over again, why wont anyone ever notice me, talk to me, anything, I’m too loyal to flirt, too shy to talk, too weak to cry, and to young too die. I wash my hands and face, wash that crusty fucking stuff off my eyebrow ring, fix my hair, pull my pants even further down my arse, bite my knuckles, take a breath and hold it as I re-enter the world.
Instantly the spiks look at me with tunnel vissioned mindsets that forbid a freak in their perfect ghetto, I look at them in the eye for while as I walk towards the train platform then look at the ground before they split my face in three. The escalator slowly creeps down, humming and creaking, until I reach the bottom where I stand and wait for my train to no-where.

Why am I too guilty to even talk to a girl who I think looks really interesting, or pretty, or familiar. I think I need to start drinking again, I need to meet new people, I need human interaction, not these faceless-phone calls which end in depression conversation. Why won’t any females ever re-assure me that I’m attractive? why won’t any females ever even look twice, why can’t I cry (only in my dreams) why do I have to know the meaning of life, and realize, it’s so fruitless. I ask these questions out-aloud so often, but never receive answers. I arrive at the city station and get off the train, people everywhere, 13-year-old girls hanging off 15-year-old male sluts. Skaters cracking onto girls that will get drunk and fuck at the snap of a finger. Aboriginals that demand money at knifepoint, pepper-spray my only way out of tight situations. My knuckles calloused from countless years of fighting, and hitting punching bags ’till suffering impact fracture, and breaking your knuckle and metacarpal. Cut your wrist just deep enough for the sting to get in, but not letting the mass of blood out. Reach my destination in the city outside Forrest chase, wait for a nice girl to come talk to me, 1 hour passes, none, walk back to the train go home, the moon now high, no busses home, and a posse of wiggaz waiting to mug me at the pay phones. Fuck it, I’ll take the cemetery short cut, I wander on alone, in the cold and dark, my clothes now camouflaging perfectly with the shadows.

I can see police sirens flashing ahead, hopefully a car wreck, I might get to see a corpse. After ten minutes of walking down the side of the highway, I realize the cops are just random breath testing for drink drivers. I deviate towards the entrance of the graveyard; it’s pitch black now without the street lamps and headlights. Australian war memorials are everywhere in this typical cemetery, but no ghosts or lost spirits or open graves, just a cremational tomb land, I wander on through the dark, lush, forest like burial ground but I’m soon finding my way lost. I press record on my Dictaphone and sing out loud, scream the words “WAKE THE DEAD!” at the top of my lungs through the deepest growling vocal cords of my throat, my voice trembling and crackling as so much exertion hurts my throat, I stop screaming for a while, shadows are running around me, voices are wailing through my head, kangaroos are running around the graveyard and making me on edge as the only light is from the moon, and a kangaroo has the height of a man. I wander for three hours in circles through the darkness until I arrive at the top of my street.

I’m nearing the postbox at the gas station, when two girls come laughing and running, bear foot, out of the shadows, starring right at me, then continue running down the road in the direction of the bush. I don’t know why but I follow them, they look young, maybe 14-15 they still run at full speed away into the distance and shadows. I end up following them for an hour or two before I snap back to my senses and realize I’ve just stalked two girls for the past hour or two, through the dark, muddy bush, I chased these females, through the cob webs and damp leaves I ran after them, I don’t know why, I just wanted to say Hi, but they ran for their lives. I finally get home and sit on the coach in the darkness punching myself in the jaw and temple until I pass out and awake a day later, and realize that I have to start another day in my shit life.

Any comments?

By thicktears

Very lost at the moment, get back to me in 6 months.