February 2nd, Year 20

What does it matter whether one wakes up at five in the morning, or five in the afternoon. They are twins. One, the sun’s paramour, the other is the moon’s paramour. This pain I feel has me crippled, wishing I did not have to wake up at all. It begins at my jaw, but renders me useless everywhere else. And it is when I have the least patience to give, that it is tested most.

Someone has been choosing to telephone me, without identifying themselves. I am kept on the line out of curiosity, attempting to guess at who it could be. The only clue given, is a sigh of desperation, devoid of lust. This isn’t a lonely man, looking to fill his nights with anything he could possibly get through the use of trickery, and numbers found in phone books. If it is, he lacks all creativity. Perhaps, he gave it away to pay off a gambling debt. Or, I am imagining every detail of my life these days, after being driven to insanity by pain. It could Robert, as it has been in the past. Such acts that were considered to be flattery yesterday, are childish today. The mind is shaped and manipulated so easily.

It is 8:40pm. One more hour before I can take the pain medication, necessary for my life to regain its dignity.

It is 4:30am. Mulligan has not come home. There isn’t much to entertain a person at this hour. All small things are noticed. All minor changes are made important. All gentle noises are a roar to be respected. Out there, when everything is dangerous and sharp, while the monsters roam, guided by the ancient powers, runs Mulligan, with soft paws against moist grass.

Sometimes, the ancient powers work in a mortal’s favor. Desperation will form a prayer, powerful enough to pull in desire. You see, as I wrote this, my Mulligan came home.

What foolishness. Anxiety concocts stories out a flavorless reality. The only magician is a restless brain. Mulligan came home because it is what he does, and what he will do until his life expires. Still, I held on to him so tightly, he couldn’t wiggle out if he tried. And I cried so hard, I couldn’t stop if I forgot why I began.

February 2nd, Year 20

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s