solitude

I put my double dirty gin martini down. I couldn't think anymore and it might of been my 10th or 7th I am not quite sure. My mind was eluding me. It walked out and slammed the door on common sense. Where is this rationality I once had? Fleeing the country like a refugee in a religious war. That is what my illness is a war between God and the Devil in my throat juggling for me to vomit out the reality and hallucinate the truth. Goodbye yellow brick road, the plane to Oz just crashed into the World Trade Center. No escape the fear you may , it is over . Things will never be the same no matter how much poison I drink or inject . the fear is installed like a satellite dish transplanted in my heart.

Shut it down

Ring Ring Ring, the constant noise of thought interruption. Usually nothing of substance on the other line. I am not a phone person. I do not vocally express myself and I do not really pay attention to calls I receive. I find myself rudely drifting as someone is talking and focusing on a bill, or the weather or was there an earthquake in Samoa? My tone is dry and bored. I am more of a writer or a person to person communicator, though I fail at that often. I insert my foot in my mouth often and hurt people's egos daily with my who cares aura. I do not delight in my thoughtlessness. All the years of my indulgences in hard drugs and booze have caught up with my attention span and numbed my soul like a novocaine shot. It is all about words I can see, anything I hear disappears as if it never existed. Do I exist? Why do phones exist?