What was once a visage of sparkling lights sprinkled amoursly
across the night sky is now an aperture of blinding darkness,
perfectly distilled. All my shinning stars have fallen and all my
humble dreams are broken. I am but a shadow of a man; distorted
beyond redemption. I feel it calling to me; the darkness; the
great decent into madness. I feel its icy breath on the back of
my pale neck. Reality and illusion blur into one incomparable
mass of roaring static. Lies and truth entwine and merge.
I light another cigarette as I wait impatiently. Not long now.
The pitiful flame of a lit match reflects cryptically off the
traction polished rails. It seems the only light left in this
dying world. I savor the sweet taste of smoke in my mouth as I
slowly inhale. This habit was once my promise of impending doom
but shall soon be reduced to complete redundancy.
I feel the darkness violate me. I feel it enter me, churning and
turning, pulsing through muscle and tendon, devouring me from the
inside out. There is a raw abrasive pressure as it malignantly
coils its way up the length of my spine like a ravenous serpent
and winds itself around my wasted heart. It binds me and frees
me. It tears with rightful force a cavity inside my torso, a
perfect vacuum, relentlessly draining me of everything that beats
until there is nothing left but this lurid shell. Not long now.
I gaze down at the sickly pale skin of my arm and dutifully note
the assortment of scars from when I thought of you and dragged
that blade across my skin. Your absence haunts me still as my
dying heart sputters in your name. Now I am reduced to this
single purpose: your entertainment, and you are entertained as I
pull back this curtain of paper and ink, are you not? Or have I
failed even in that?
As my mind races she appears to me suddenly, a ghostly, enigmatic
image. She transverses the horizon, translucently floating across
the rugged terrain; one with the rising mist. She is cloaked in
spotless white linen, haloed by oil black hair. I know that I've
began to hallucinate but as so often besets me I cannot discern
the line between psychosis and reality. She is but a little girl,
and speaks with the soft tremor of a child's voice, smothered
with the pretense of innocence. She taunts me and teases me. Her
laughter echoes in a demonic chorus as though there were walls
around us for it to reverberate off. Not long now. Soon she will
I look up at the moody sky as it begins to weep. Each esoteric
drop of ice water plummets to earth and ends with a cold, sharp
sensation on my stark cheeks. The rain seems fitting since I no
longer remember how to cry. You won't cry for me either.
I hear the scream of metal against metal. A faint glow appears in
the distance, ever more imposing as the mechanical monster, whose
heart is a mixture of oil and electricity, opens its gaping mouth
to consume me. To finally set me free.
On the 13th of the 5th 1986 an unidentified
Caucasian male, in his early twenties, committed suicide by
stepping out onto the Euphoria Street rail road and into the path
of an on coming train. His body was dismembered, torn to pieces
and dispersed across the landscape.