He haunted the outer rim of sanity. Protecting his soul from silent darkness his mission. Weapons were archaic and few. Aluminum foil, duct tape and a long forgotten Barry Manilow cd.
Remembered nights in the Copacabana sipping whiskey with a blue-eyed beauty one dance and a lifetime of memories. (What was her name?)
If not the Copa maybe they had worn matching straight jackets shared panic in the patient lounge at Las Encinas.
Moments lost when his memory was scrubbed clean with electric sandpaper in a room benignly labeled "Utility Closet" by a suit with a misguided sense of irony.
Despite Tesla like wattage voices continued to mock him screeching "Marco Polo" while blindly he roamed the infinite emptiness in search of a moment's peace.
Beyond the horizon of what normals called reality little green gremlins chased the sandman into the abyss. Leaving him contemplating four white walls and a door less closet inhabited by mythic monsters.
Where his sanity had once been pressed and hung. Useless armor against sharpened needles, filled with chemicals promising better tomorrows, wielded by doctors claiming to offer hope.
He knew better. Vitriolic experiences prepared him for unseen truths. Behind innocent appearing surgical masks were renaissance clowns laughing manically.
And he screamed.
Another Blast From The Past. Specifically April 2004. Not sure what happened that month but for being six months from Halloween I had several dark posts.
4 weeks ago
