contents and discontents

Picture of the Day
yesterday | today tomorrow

April 18, 2003

Furniture smashed, TV imploded, books and papers everywhere, a cold draft blowing through a broken pane imperfectly plugged with a wig that at first I mistake for the head of someone climbing in. Where is my other shoe? My sock is torn, brown with dried blood. The wound is deep but at an angle, forming a kind of flap. I pour the last dregs of Becherovka on it. It should sting but I don't feel it and that is my problem-an encompassing numbness I try to forget but its absence is like the death of a loved one, a maddening vacancy where something should be. Still, I'm giddy, slaphappy hilarity of waking up drunk. The hangover would have to wait. Maybe it would never come. I look around. There's my shoe! Lodged in the TV guts. Fuck TV anyway, goddamned brainrot.
~Vegetable Dreams