Loner

 

9:29pm — the night bloomed alive, sizzling with the soft blue aura of an intense cyberpunk vibe. I could feel the darkness cackling with delight and knew what has to be done.

I had to stock up on the goods, and soon – not tomorrow, not later – right then and there. I had to do something– to drown my need for sobriety was the only accurate answer.

But impatience got out of hand. A creature of some sorts had infiltrated my backyard, making my loyal canine companion lose it. He didn’t enjoy the thought of some other four-legged beast muscled up to his turf, so of course, I convinced him to remain inside and suggested a good night’s sleep.

The burden of silence had surrounded my soul once again. Sometimes I felt the need to break out of this lonesome lifestyle of mine but then I remembered; loneliness is what was keeping me sane. The silence of my torment slithers up and down my spine, a powerful jolt of peace whispering in my ears. I write about it, or I rant and cover those stories up in meaningless jibber jabber into the recorder.  What’s the point? Who would care?

But then I remember, life is precious. Keeping it crisp and clear is the goal. The silver lining of a clear night sky, the thundering sound of my dog’s bark, and the occasional bright flicker of the electronic voice recorder I use like a captain’s log in a strange cosmic universe.  

Sometimes I post my recordings on the web as part of a legitimate communication, other times I dump it into the depths of the cyber dimension, a trash heap podcast I call slime skull of snot. That’s what makes me feel alive. That’s what makes me care enough to never give anything up. That’s more than enough.

Alcohol. That’s all I need to make things right. A bottle or two should satisfy my thirst. I go off duty tomorrow, happily trading independence for retoxication.

Live fast, live alone, and stay alive. Yeah, that’s my mantra and I’m sticking to it.