Thou art Man
Cup noodles, a can of beer, a single cigarette from a pack opened a week ago. Plus a cup of instant coffee, and a small can of Armour Vienna Sausage. All these and I was still damn hungry at 2 am.
I had no pressing problems but I was not at peace; like a walled city that’s not under siege but is dying from a horrible pestilence within. I could not sleep. I could not sleep.
The lights in the living room seemed merciful but it was horribly dark outside. Ah, the story of my life. All aglow and facing the dark. Left in the dark and unable to lighten anyone else except my own fickle mind.
There is no salvation in my own messianic imagination. There is only the darkness that awaits; I do not dread it.
I haven’t taken drugs yet and here I am, pretending to be hallucinatory and manic all the same.
