What am I?
this hunger and need for nothing just won’t stop manifesting inside of me. I don’t know what im looking for but maybe I’ll know if I see it. But will I? I’m so tired of waking up – living my life in a dreamy fantasy as I overload my system with all the narcotics I could get my hands on.
I just want relief from my life, from my stress. Residue from the sticky weed still on my fingers as I use fine razor blade to chop the finest cocaine I could get my hands on. The hard inhale hit me harder than I thought, and I loved it. Using the cocaine to numb – to not feel. Running my fingertips down my cheeks.
Looking in the mirror – black slick outfit. Even homeless, you have to have style. I could not live my life and survive walking around looking like a homeless piece of trash that had no respect for themselves. I had to have some respect.
Do you ever feel even in a crowded room, no one saw /you/? I do, I feel it all the time. – I know I’m different. I’m not like most, I can’t seem to find that happiness – see the silver line in anything. My brain just takes the magic out of everything. I break it down until there is nothing left but scraps of pure nothing.
What is the point? Getting up every day fighting until the day we punch our ticket.
God, that rush. – I know it’s bad. But I want it anyway.
I don’t want to leave this room – not with the whole world on the other side. This world that seems to have life figured out. How? I’m drowning, and I can’t find my way up.
The paper crinkles under my fingertips as I roll the joint back and forth, just looking over it. Staring off in the distance trying to figure out my next bottle. I have lived twenty years of brutal violence. It’s honestly a burden for me to just open my f***ing eyelids.
I take that useful razor, and I run it against my face, feeling the cold metal scrap against it, all I want to do is feel anything other than this, so i cut into the side of my face and I watch as the blood drips down my face – it doesn’t hurt. I dont feel anything – and my body felt a rush as the blood fell down my pale face, my finger reached up to touch over the hot thick liquid dripping.
No job, rent due – this hunger and need for nothing just won’t stop manifesting inside of me. I don’t know what im looking for but maybe I’ll know if I see it. But will I? I’m so tired of waking up – living my life in a dreamy fantasy as I overload my system with all the narcotics I could get my hands on.
I have done so much, I should have overdosed many of times, but I didn’t. Somehow, I’m still f***ing here.
I don’t want to be.
I don’t want to live.
I’m tired of struggling.
I’m tired of loving.
I’m f***ing tired of only getting by, by hustling – gangbanging on the streets with morons who don’t give a sh*t. – I might not want to live, but I sure as hell don’t want to be behind still bars of which I do not have the key too.
So I sit in an abandoned house, the bathroom – staring into this dirty, rusty – disgusting Mirror. Looking into my eyes and all I see is a monster. I see someone that is no one that is nothing. I see a freak, and one that will always be on the bottom.
It’s not like I care about being popular – with who? I’m an adult, homeless and doing drugs. I’m not exactly a catch. I do have beautiful friends – but they don’t see me. Not the way I see them, they see me the way I see myself. They see that nothing. That one person that walks through the room and no one notices.
I know they know – they know my hunger. That tightening in my chest as I glance over their necks, seeing their veins pop out and pulse as the blood pumped through their warm live bodies. This hunger.
I could not give in and take a life.
Unless they deserved it.
I would be doing the world a favor right?
Like my mother – who wanted nothing to do with me? Only kept me because my ‘grandmother’ didn’t believe in abortion. Tossed me aside as soon as I came out – like I asked to be here, you dumb fxcking cunt. Maybe I’ll start with you, and just rip that nasty little tongue out of your mouth and watch you gasp for air, not able to even scream.
No one will hear her, miss her. She is trash, on the streets. – or her boyfriend who put his hands on me – beat me until I was no longer in my body. I was crouched in the corner – the corner in the top of the room, staring down at him hit me over and over and over. Because I wanted to go out and play.
Maybe I’ll start with the child abuser.
Putting my joint out, I look down at all the raw and bloody food that stood in front of me – and I couldn’t understand for the life of me why I was craving it so goddamn bad.
My hands gripped my head as I curled into a ball screaming like a bitch – my head felt like war drums pounding away fiercely. Oh god the pain, thudding against my skull – I can’t see, I can’t breathe, it hurt so bad.
It wasn’t the pain in my head – but what I saw. Bodies, laying everywhere. Like a war field but it was a village, no army. – no soldiers. Just men and woman – children, sprawled all over the place. My mind flashed red as I saw faces screaming at me, my heart thudded as I fell to the floor.
I could have sworn my head was splitting open the pain was so bad, I was so hungry and it hurt so bad.
What is wrong with me? Can everyone else see it too?
After a good few minutes, it felt like an ages – I could smell the fresh overwhelming aroma of copper dripping on the fresh blades of the grass. There was blood everywhere, more blood than you would see from a war. More like a slaughtering, this village did not look as though they were prepared for battle. They necks were ripped out, blood was everywhere, faces looking at me. I can still hear some of the voices and please – groans from those that were barely hanging on for dear life. I wanted to help but I couldn’t move.
“Help me. Please, help me.”
Coming to reality, I sat there – trying to understand what happened I have no one – no one to talk to, and I have never heard of this stuff happening. Except from folklore of different variations and adaptations of / vampires /, laughing at myself at the thought. Vampires? Okay, yeah.
But that steak – it looked good, but it needed to be warm, but not wanting to cook it. That would take the / blood / out of it, and that is what I’m wanted. I’m craving it, why? The thirst hurts and aches through my body. I can’t help myself, the scent filled my nostrils and it felt and tasted better than the top notch cocaine I have been using more often than I want to admit.
I can’t control the hunger, and I give in. Ripping it open, hands tearing into the plastic to reveal the raw meat and I bite into it, literally moaning at how goddamn good tasted. Blood dripping down my face, but it wasn’t /enough/. It was cold, and – stale. It wasn’t what I was craving, I needed / more /.
What am i? I’m a / monster /. Visions – headaches crippling me – the goddamn saw things. I was standing in the middle of another world, another time but he could feel the pain throbbing throughout his skull. It all felt so /real/. The blood, that blood that covered the grown only made my body ache and crave more, I was hungrier – but that hunger made me sick.
How could I crave /blood/? How could I take another life, just to feed? What am I? Who am I?
Where did I come from? I don’t belong, and I will become a monster, a danger to everyone around me.
Unless I could find a way to control this – figure out who I am and why I feel this way.
To be continued.
- Connor Mordecai