I miss those nights of deliriousness where everything and nothing made sense. I miss the burning sensation in my eyelids and the queasy feeling that welled up into a ball in my stomach and almost lifted vomit up through the space in between my two front teeth and on to the lap that I had my elbows resting because I was on the toilet trying to get some sleep. Always, always just before the sun came up is when this feeling would arise.
I miss going out into the cold morning feeling tired and wide awake because of the sickness in my stomach and the burning in my eyes to get into my car and drive home and lay in my bed watching the ceiling and wishing that all ov the werds in the werld were rittin just as thay sownd. Wondering why the only times in the day with titles are noon and midnight and wondering if that damed poster hanging at the edge of my bed is really lopsided or is it just my head.
I still don't know. When I look at it when I'm standing it looks fine not tilted at all but when I lay in bed those long psychologically frantic nights and stare at "The Score" movie poster that lay above my feet I start measuring each side in relation to the edge of the wall and the other posters that it is supposed to be even with. I see Robert DeNiros face laughing at me with mocking, scornful eyes because he knows. He knows that no matter how many times I take it down and put it back up it will never be even and I will probably end up ripping the edges and crumpling it into a ball and throwing it out the window. And it probably isn't even lopsided.
I have a lot of movie posters up in my room and I have to admit that I have not seen any of the movies that the movie posters are advertising, except one. Casino. No I haven't seen the "crossing Guard" who protects my door while I sleep. I haven't seen "Batman and Robin" who inhabit the room next door. That "Father of the Bride II" who lives in my closet is foreign to me. Apparently Dunston checked in just under him but I wouldn't know because I haven't seen the movie. The door to my room would tell you that it is a "Biodome" just as the sign above my bed would tell you that I "Score". Neither is true. I feel like I'm living a lie surrounded by these people that I don't know who stare at me in the night and plot the overtaking of my room. They're jealous of the iron I use every day to alleviate old wrinkles and make new ones on my shirts and pants on my dirty floor every morning. They're jealous of my books, which almost all have been drenched in pineapple vodka. They want the battery operated toothbrush with dead batteries that I use every morning the brush my teeth,. I see it in their eyes. They're plotting against me.
It's only a matter of time.
I miss going out into the cold morning feeling tired and wide awake because of the sickness in my stomach and the burning in my eyes to get into my car and drive home and lay in my bed watching the ceiling and wishing that all ov the werds in the werld were rittin just as thay sownd. Wondering why the only times in the day with titles are noon and midnight and wondering if that damed poster hanging at the edge of my bed is really lopsided or is it just my head.
I still don't know. When I look at it when I'm standing it looks fine not tilted at all but when I lay in bed those long psychologically frantic nights and stare at "The Score" movie poster that lay above my feet I start measuring each side in relation to the edge of the wall and the other posters that it is supposed to be even with. I see Robert DeNiros face laughing at me with mocking, scornful eyes because he knows. He knows that no matter how many times I take it down and put it back up it will never be even and I will probably end up ripping the edges and crumpling it into a ball and throwing it out the window. And it probably isn't even lopsided.
I have a lot of movie posters up in my room and I have to admit that I have not seen any of the movies that the movie posters are advertising, except one. Casino. No I haven't seen the "crossing Guard" who protects my door while I sleep. I haven't seen "Batman and Robin" who inhabit the room next door. That "Father of the Bride II" who lives in my closet is foreign to me. Apparently Dunston checked in just under him but I wouldn't know because I haven't seen the movie. The door to my room would tell you that it is a "Biodome" just as the sign above my bed would tell you that I "Score". Neither is true. I feel like I'm living a lie surrounded by these people that I don't know who stare at me in the night and plot the overtaking of my room. They're jealous of the iron I use every day to alleviate old wrinkles and make new ones on my shirts and pants on my dirty floor every morning. They're jealous of my books, which almost all have been drenched in pineapple vodka. They want the battery operated toothbrush with dead batteries that I use every morning the brush my teeth,. I see it in their eyes. They're plotting against me.
It's only a matter of time.
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