Title Unknown so far.
Madness is just the emergency exit. You can just step aside and close the door on all those dreadful things that happened. You can lock them away.. Forever.
1:18 am
My mind wanders unable to focus, my sense of reality drifts in and out. Delusions engulf my head; unable to separate the truth from the lies, I am shortly convinced that I am fine.
Feet scuff the pavement as I walked down the long foggy street, the only light I could make out was from a buzzing street lamp a block away. I sighed and pulled out my pack, lighting an unnecessary cigarette, the nicotine not quite soothing the craving that was gnawing at the back of my brain stem.
It was all Poison. Thats what people called it, but I didnt heed their pointless opinion. They do not know what its like to live in poetry; to them there was no bliss.. only self righteous anger.
I took another drag, attempting to hush it for a little wile longer; I was almost there.
The long road that was covered in mist made the hair on the back of my neck stand on edge like an electric current had run though my body. It felt like en empty stair, a harsh lingering glare.
I walked on, final coming up on the old grey Miller Home, it was a two story abandoned house with boarded windows and shingles hanging off the roof. I flick my cigarette butt into the sidewalk gutter and make a sharp right slipping between a few broken fence posts. My black Doc Martin boots trudging though the overgrown yard, that sported 2 feet tall weeds and the dead hangman's tree. I speed up my pace as I walked closer to the large house.
The Miller Home was a nice house back in the 50's with light blue color and beautiful garden was signature in the neighborhood. It had a white picket fence and trim that lined windows and doors. It had belonged to the town doctor when the city was not quite as developed. He ended up going mad from either abuse and set his whole house on fire, burning his family and himself to death. It had gotten fixed up but nobody ever bought the house so it sits on its little hill, boarded up and forgotten.
I made my way up to the back of the house. I had lived in the neighborhood my whole life. There was a good 10 block radius that I knew like the back of my hand. It comes in handy sometimes, at least I think so as I quietly take off the lose boards that hang on the broken window that leads to the study on the bottom floor. Successfully making my way though the window and into the pitch black house, I grab my lighter from my jacket pocket, flicking it to light my way.
Quickly making my way though the few empty hallways, the wooden floors creak as I make my way into the living room and plant my bum on the soft shag carpet. I have been in this house more then I can count, its so familiar to me, Im not scared of it like alot of people are. The old pealing wall paper was of faded flowers and showing the dry wall behind it, a few holes adorned the wall as well that may or may not be from me. There are rumors that it is haunted but I just dont care.
I took out my kit from the pocket on the inside of my jacket. My heart rate sped up as my anticipation for the junk made itself more vivid, and my train of thought spun at a millions miles an hour. All they thought of it was Poison, it was my release. What my heart craved and what oh, so, polity quiets my raging mind.
I rolled up my jacket sleeve, exposing the pale skin and making the countless scars seem more prominent against the dark contrast of the pitch black. Wrapping the tourniquet dutifully around my arm and took a deep breath, trying to calm my speeding rapidly beating heart.
I grit my teeth and stuck the needle into my waiting vein, closing my eyes as I willfully inject myself with their so called Poison, a warm sensation sped though the course of my capillary system.
Euphoria. Delirium. The seventh heaven that my whole life's meaning is to chase. Reason has disappeared; madness has taken its place as my mind got thrown into the raging chaos. Give me noise, give me thunder, give me proof this poetry was real.