Darkness, Darkness

. . . So I have this mouth shut-off button installed on the side of my head, and I am constantly laying on it full force to try and stop some of the really stupid-ass shit before it ejects from my mouth. No way I can stop the stupid-ass shit from running through my head, but . . . It is the end of spring, the beginning of summer. Normally one of the brightest times in my year. This year, the darkness is unrelenting . . . I need another button that shines a Q-Beam, to try and see through the blackness. I’d be laying on that one, too, if I had it; not that it would do much good now . . . I had a dream one time, back in my heavy-duty partying days. I dreamt that I got so fucked up this one night that the vicious hangover I woke up with the next day didn’t go away, I had to deal with it for weeks. For weeks, walking around with a pounding headache and the feeling of shattered, broken glass rustling around inside of my head. In my dream I briefly considered a gun for relief, but ended up smoking some kick-ass cheeba with this dizzy chick I’d met, before going to bed with her for three days. That got rid of the hangover, but now I had this hippie chick hanging off of me . . . I had that dream my junior year in college, while in real life I was dealing with the girl of my dreams getting pregnant and deciding to keep the baby and abort me, instead . . . After that, in quick succession, academic probation, check (I literally partied for days on end, no time for class or books that semester); death of a friend, check; parents divorce, check; death of a close friend, check. That was one hell of a semester, boy. The only period of time in my life I truly ran off the rails. I ended up spending a lot of the time “experimenting” with window pane LSD, with my friend Phil. Purple micro-dots. I felt like I needed to expand my mind, or something . . . Awhile after that, I had quit the psychedelics and was staying down at the beach cabin, and a couple of friends showed up one night. They were tripping, and had just come from the Eagle’s Lodge down at Crystal Beach, of all places. I tried to imagine what the normal clientlele in that place must have been thinking, looking at my friends; who told me they were so fucked up that they sat in a booth and ordered beers, but were too freaked out to drink them because the mortar between the bricks on the interior facade of the lodge was literally oozing out and running down the walls. So they came looking for me . . . Around that same time some drunk girl picked me up in the bar at Steak ‘n’ Ale one night. She planned to take me home with her, I think. But instead she ran her LeSabre off the road at about 70 mph, out in the middle of fucking nowhere, some rice fields off of IH 10 between Winnie and Anahuac. She never even hit the brakes. We skidded wildly across muddy fields, taking out a couple of barbed-wire fences along the way, before going nose down into a 10 ft. deep drainage canal. I was belted in but still hit the windshield hard enough with my head to crack it, in a circular pattern roughly the size and shape of my skull. Noticing that was the last thing I remembered, that and seeing the girl try to get loose from her seat belt and climb longways up the inside of the passenger compartment, to get to a window . . . and I also had the vague sensation of really cold water creeping up the legs of my jeans, just as I slipped into shock and unconsciousness . . . Some farmer found the car, six hours later, while riding his tractor around in his fields. It was nearly half a mile off the road, semi-submerged in this fucking ditch. The car was perpindicular to the ground, and the only thing that stopped me from drowning was the seat belt, which kept my upper body out of the water. I was submerged from the waist down. I did crack three of my ribs; but that seemed minor, considering. It took them three days to find the girl, who had made it out of the car, and then took off across the rice fields in the dark, in a panic. She’d looked over at me after I’d passed out, and thought I was dead . . . Anyway, point being I’ve had some eventful times along the way, but I never was fazed by any of it for too long, because I always had this inner sense that I was being looked after, and that I was doing what the person looking after me wanted me to do, more or less. Maybe not some of the specific details so much, but I was living my life, not sitting through it. And I could bounce back from anything . . . So, that’s about it.

Right now, I’m in one of those dark times again, when I cannot tell down from up, and the only thing I know to do is dive off of the deep end, and see where I end up.

Like an Inca, or something.


Early this morning
You knocked upon my door
Early this morning
When you knocked upon my door
I said, “Hello, Satan,
I believe it’s time to go.”

_____________________________________________________________