My shot at heaven

It’s only a short ride to the top. That’s what they told me. Somehow it feels a lot longer than it should.
My ears are burning. The madman at the wheel is on his own private road to hell. We’re just along for the ride. Hot air blows in my face with the belligerence of a rabid bull. I’m caged in a ton of metal hurtling towards oblivion. Looks like its going to be a long climb up. A sudden swerve has me slammed against the door. A chuckle laced with caustic irony rolls towards me, staring me in the face. I’m busy choking on a bad joke.

The lights outside are a blur and my head’s already spinning. Sickening electronic sounds drone out from the stereo, tortured rubber tires squeal for mercy. There are no eyes in the rear view mirror.
We pick up speed. The road becomes a winding slithering snake. I can hear the venom in the yelps of the passengers. The walls close in. We’re almost there.

We break through the barriers of caution with an overdose of adrenalin and blind luck. Ladies and gentlemen, we have ascension.
The world turns upside down. Demons outside mock us as we hurtle by. Our guide to madness drives his metal behemoth right through the yawning abyss of rationality in one blind leap of faith.
Gravity asserts itself with a bang and a blow to the ego. And right there along the edge of the abyss, we see freedom. A maze of light and despair woven together in the mosaic of our reality.

Firm ground leaps to my feet as I stumble out of my daze. Cold air caresses my face. I hear ghosts frolicking in the distance. The noise is fading away. There’s an eerie calmness in the air. I’m still seeing stars. I’m left hanging at the precipice of someone else’s paradise.

Down below I can see the dark brutal road that leads back to the world I knew. It’s getting darker by the minute.

It’s going to be a long way down.

Omair’s List: Entry #4

My soggy tomato

Going out for lunch is always fraught with danger. No parking spaces, apathetic waiters, long queues, uncomfortable seats, pretentious bastards for company… some days, it’s just not worth it.

Too late to do anything about it now though. I was already there, so I figured I might as well get on with this sick twisted circus of civility.

How to shave like a man

Open unwilling eyes to a colorless morning. Mutter silent curses under muted breath. Stumble in grudging footsteps into a lifeless room. Cold hard floor heralding yet another cold hard day.

Stare at the zombie in the mirror. Tired eyes staring back at a tired face. Watch life drip away in a stream of liquid clarity. Let soothing water run over tired hands, wash away all feeling. Watch sleep and dreams swirl down the sink, never to be seen again.

Feel the weight of cold metal gripped between begrudging fingers. The dance of light and shade on the razor’s edge. Sharp brutal release just a touch away. Shades of grey bleed into the cold light of day.
Put the razor to your own throat. End the grim affair of warm skin and hard steel.
Feel the honed metal bite into exposed skin. Slit open emotion. Sever yesterday.
Shred away past, present and future in clean calculated strokes. Memories stripped away in the friction between then and now. Cut it all away.

Wash away time. Wash away hope. Wash away you. Bathe in the despair of the wretched morning light. Tomorrow is here again.

Omair’s List: Entry #3

Vengeance by photocopy

It was one of those ugly days when you have to pay the devil his due. Often known as “weekends”.
Let’s just say that there was some pending paperwork that needed to be taken care of.
No two ways about it; the orders came straight from The Family. Best to get this over and done with quickly.

Fruitiness Follows

Consider the apple. Original sin. Red seduction that brought Adam down to earth, in more ways than one. Scarlet reflection that brought Newton and gravity to a mutual understanding.
Crimson flavor packaged and sold to us in little cardboard boxes.

Consider the orange. Bright paragon of vitamin C and health. Symbol of purity. Juno’s gift of innocence to Jupiter on the day of their celestial wedding. Tangy freshness processed and powdered for a season that will never end.
Summer glory made ready-to-serve.

Consider the grape. Nectar of the heavens. Seductive undertow of countless mythologies. The apostle’s favored choice. Violet stories in cool summer nights. Promises of bliss, dreams of purple contentment.
Sweet escape in clear crystal glass.

Consider Fruit Loops. Colored rings of cheer raised on artificial flavorings and preservatives. Belligerent custodians of all essential vitamins and minerals. Life seen through the glazed eyes of a perpetual sugar-high. Reflections of past, present and future illuminated in the light of the refrigerator.
Epiphanies in a bowlful of cereal at three in the morning.