I didn't see nothing!?
Maybe I was asleep.
Yes. That’s it. I was asleep and dreaming.
Yes, I recall having this terrible nightmare about some terrible cell and I was in it. I had been there for how long I did not know. It was dark and smelled of my own excrement—too strong, god awful. I hated it. I hated being there so alone in the blackness. I would scream and scream and scream but no one ever came to the little slot of light that shone so far above me—so far. And all I ever wanted was to reach that light. I desperately wanted to climb the ladder that I was trying to fashion from my own shit, but it always fell apart in my hands. Always. I could not make a stool from my stool.
Somehow I could sense that there was others around me: many, many others. I would sometimes make out faint echoes of their screaming, their ranting, their howling. Their voices crying higher, cracking, dying. They were trapped like me. The hopeless. The dead.
I always secretly hoped that they were, like me, trying to climb a ladder of their own shit—I imagined them molding their shit with their hands: up to the elbows, I’m sure; some maybe even the neck or over! It was my desperate secret wish that somehow for someone the crapladder would hold and reach that light. But it never happened in so long so long so long never.
And there I was a mess in my own messes. And always hungry and thirsty—so very hungry wanting food or nourishment or something besides the foul stench of my own shit. And lips so cracked and caked and raw. The feces smeared across my faces when I wipe my brow from the endless toils would burn so harsh and brutal. I must have been in some sort of hell. I must being punished for something, but what. It had been so long in that filthy stinking hole that I could not remember.
What had I done?
Who had decided to put me here?
I did not know. And I went on and on and on screaming, clawing, grasping, climbing, but to no avail. Always always always that damn little fuckin’ strip of light out of reach, not helping, not an inspiration but a curse! I HATE YOU LIGHT I HATE YOU!
And then it snapped. It cracked one day in my head and I figured sure as hell that I’m not dead. I recalled that I had bought the Devil’s soul, but He, in his crafty wisdom, had placed me here so I would forget, forever, that it was I who had the power. And then I gave up.
I gave up on the light, because I knew that was merely the fire of hell reflecting diffracted off the glistening sweat of the Devil’s balls. It was a trick, like this place, this shit filled chamber of horror and suffering. So I went down—the direction that is supposed to be to hell. I dug in the feces, I dug deep. It got up to my waist, then up to my neck, but I didn’t care I knew where to go, I realized that I had known all along but I needed to traverse the Mobius Band in my head. That was the crash. The end of this world.
And then I awoke to snow on the ground. Winter had come overnight. The green foliage bent deep towards the ground, out of respect for the snow. I drank coffee put on my shoes and boots (I left the part out about pissing and washing my face, brushing my teeth and what not you see) and shades. Hit the elevator button the button on the train, but I wasn’t striving to push the luminescent trick button in the Devil’s Skinner Box anymore.
I smiled big to people and lit a smoke. I was late for an appointment with the Associate Dean but I knew at the bottom it wouldn’t matter: and it didn’t.
So I must have missed this wave you all are talking about.
Oh well, maybe next time. |
