It starts with whispers... it comes like a gentle voice in the stillness of my solitude... it is seductive...
But then...
It taunts me and it mocks me and the more I try to ignore it... it just howls louder and laughs at my weakness... “you're weak...” it whispers in my mind... “ what are you gonna do... punk?”
I ignore it...
“Faggot...”
I walk away...
“Pussy...”
I make myself busy... or pretend to be...
“Why the fuck haven’t you just killed yourself yet...”
I grab a bottle of whiskey...
“That’s right... try to find your courage in that bottle and cry... bitch... and then go out and do something stupid... or call one of your whores to come over so you can fuck your fears away... I’ll be here all night... puto...”
I grab the bottle by the neck. I see his shadow crawl on the wall and throw the bottle at him...
It shatters... and he laughs...
He crawls into the mirror... and I trap him... in my stare.
He speaks - “tell you what... give me one good reason why we shouldn’t... and I’ll let you go...”
I have no good reasons - “you know you want to... I can feel it... I can smell the anger in you... I can taste the blood of that savage fury... I burn with that rage... I have been burning with it since you were a boy... we can’t carry it any longer... we can’t put it out... we can only let it spread... give me one good reason... and I’ll let you go...”
I have been angry since I was a boy. Angry that my father left. Angry for being poor. Angry for being shy and small and meek... angry for being awkward and solitary... angry for not being heard... angry for being afraid... angry for not ever being told what the reasons were for all the changes in my life that others were controlling... And anger for not being able to express my feelings on the matter... that anger just got pushed down... into a hole... in my mind... and it left a stain on my soul.
And then... I was angry at being taken from my country... and angry for losing my culture and my language and my heritage... angry for abandoning who I wanted to be to fit in with the other kids... angry for not being taught any thing useful... angry for not knowing how to become a man... angry for being betrayed by those I trusted... angry for people blaming me for their stupid shit... angry for not chasing my dreams and not finding the ones I went after... angry for giving up... angry for her... for the love I wasted... for the time I wasted... for not knowing how to keep her... angry for all the women... all the whores... all the worthless fucking that amounted to nothing in the end... angry for losing my faith and not recognizing love when it finally arrived... angry for the ones I did hurt... and the ones that hurt me...
And I pushed it all deep down into a hole in my mind... and the stain on my soul grew a little bit heavier.
And then... I was angry when I learned the truth and when I came to terms with the truth... that someone should have told me when I was young... and I was angry for the lies on top of lies that I had always been fed... angry for the friends I lost and the moments I had that I let slip away... angry for the times I let others use me and take advantage of my kindness... of my weakness... of my fears... my desperation... angry for the things I lost that I thought I needed and angry for the money I wasted on them... angry for letting myself slip into the despair and the darkness... that weakness when it grabs hold of me... that took years to crawl out form... angry for the wasted years and the missing years - the time that I cannot make up or buy back or trade my soul for... angry for the things I said and did and the deals I made that I cannot take back... angry for the devil that chases me... angry for this broken body... my shoulders...my legs... my foot... my mouth... this ear... Angry for those demons in the night... angry for those trying to shove their beliefs on me... for those trying to take my beliefs away... angry for this world I can not save - we wont save it... angry because I know all we can do is burn it down... angry for being so fucking angry all the time and trying to keep it reigned in... angry for having to come back in from the wild... from the sea... from the darkness... angry for the destiny I have chosen... for knowing that I will die alone... and I will.
I look into his eyes... the room lit by the soft glow of candles dancing and reflecting from room to room in this old house... “I can’t think of a good reason not to burn the mother-fucker down... and not spill the blood of the weak, degenerate, greedy, miserable, filth on the streets... but after we start... will you help me find a good reason to stop”
He looks back at me with sadness in his eyes... and desperation in his voice and says - “I can’t...”
It taunts me and it mocks me and the more I try to ignore it... it just howls louder and laughs at my weakness... “you're weak...” it whispers in my mind... “ what are you gonna do... punk?”
I ignore it...
“Faggot...”
I walk away...
“Pussy...”
I make myself busy... or pretend to be...
“Why the fuck haven’t you just killed yourself yet...”
I grab a bottle of whiskey...
“That’s right... try to find your courage in that bottle and cry... bitch... and then go out and do something stupid... or call one of your whores to come over so you can fuck your fears away... I’ll be here all night... puto...”
I grab the bottle by the neck. I see his shadow crawl on the wall and throw the bottle at him...
It shatters... and he laughs...
He crawls into the mirror... and I trap him... in my stare.
He speaks - “tell you what... give me one good reason why we shouldn’t... and I’ll let you go...”
I have no good reasons - “you know you want to... I can feel it... I can smell the anger in you... I can taste the blood of that savage fury... I burn with that rage... I have been burning with it since you were a boy... we can’t carry it any longer... we can’t put it out... we can only let it spread... give me one good reason... and I’ll let you go...”
I have been angry since I was a boy. Angry that my father left. Angry for being poor. Angry for being shy and small and meek... angry for being awkward and solitary... angry for not being heard... angry for being afraid... angry for not ever being told what the reasons were for all the changes in my life that others were controlling... And anger for not being able to express my feelings on the matter... that anger just got pushed down... into a hole... in my mind... and it left a stain on my soul.
And then... I was angry at being taken from my country... and angry for losing my culture and my language and my heritage... angry for abandoning who I wanted to be to fit in with the other kids... angry for not being taught any thing useful... angry for not knowing how to become a man... angry for being betrayed by those I trusted... angry for people blaming me for their stupid shit... angry for not chasing my dreams and not finding the ones I went after... angry for giving up... angry for her... for the love I wasted... for the time I wasted... for not knowing how to keep her... angry for all the women... all the whores... all the worthless fucking that amounted to nothing in the end... angry for losing my faith and not recognizing love when it finally arrived... angry for the ones I did hurt... and the ones that hurt me...
And I pushed it all deep down into a hole in my mind... and the stain on my soul grew a little bit heavier.
And then... I was angry when I learned the truth and when I came to terms with the truth... that someone should have told me when I was young... and I was angry for the lies on top of lies that I had always been fed... angry for the friends I lost and the moments I had that I let slip away... angry for the times I let others use me and take advantage of my kindness... of my weakness... of my fears... my desperation... angry for the things I lost that I thought I needed and angry for the money I wasted on them... angry for letting myself slip into the despair and the darkness... that weakness when it grabs hold of me... that took years to crawl out form... angry for the wasted years and the missing years - the time that I cannot make up or buy back or trade my soul for... angry for the things I said and did and the deals I made that I cannot take back... angry for the devil that chases me... angry for this broken body... my shoulders...my legs... my foot... my mouth... this ear... Angry for those demons in the night... angry for those trying to shove their beliefs on me... for those trying to take my beliefs away... angry for this world I can not save - we wont save it... angry because I know all we can do is burn it down... angry for being so fucking angry all the time and trying to keep it reigned in... angry for having to come back in from the wild... from the sea... from the darkness... angry for the destiny I have chosen... for knowing that I will die alone... and I will.
I look into his eyes... the room lit by the soft glow of candles dancing and reflecting from room to room in this old house... “I can’t think of a good reason not to burn the mother-fucker down... and not spill the blood of the weak, degenerate, greedy, miserable, filth on the streets... but after we start... will you help me find a good reason to stop”
He looks back at me with sadness in his eyes... and desperation in his voice and says - “I can’t...”
Dash Deringer - 47
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