Graphic Sleep-Chapter Four: The Demon Walks Into Heaven

I am the voice in your head, the words you read to yourself. Whether it be inspirational or a crime. And these words could support you, help you.1

It is dark and I am guessing the time by glancing at my wrist, yet nothing is there but my own flesh. I shouldn't be worried of the time since I am not going back. Unless some force drags me into that cave, the house that is not a home, the roof that rained underneath. 2

Do you believe in Angels? You cannot find them in a Home of Christ, or in a book in a house. They do not live in caves and they don't come from the Heavens. They are there, always, inside of you and within you. They are here to become you, and the fact is, it is a terror that gets under your skin and eats your muscles.3

He is my angel, the angel of white. A white demon wind that carries the leaf, the mildew and whispers across my skies. They are the colors I see here and within, the answers.4

The concrete is cold, I come pale with sickness and paranoia. Everywhere I look seems like a Polaroid I could never forget, one that couldn't burn to ashes. I walk slowly out in the middle of the empty street. There is an echo but it's nothing more than the blank silence. I found the item, the boredom I had tripped over. No words are spoken and nothing is happening but the steps I am making, the closer I am getting, the farther away I am going. From here on after, It is me and the street. 5

These houses are empty, the silver cars have not returned, or is it they have never left? My focus is what is between each street lamp on the left and on the right of me. The road straightens out into the city. The city is not peace, it is a war with billboards and Wal-Marts on every corner.6

A city of whores and poverty, a place I can sink into the street without being noticed?7

He is my city and my money. Without him, I couldn't of entered the ashtray. My only fear is being soaked with decay, burned and coiled on Halloween.8

I want a city of my own. A city demon that walks, but a light bulb cant light without a source.9

A source..?10

The street is an aspect of the source. The street is a drawing in an art show. Nothing more than a display, a Gothic time era that shaded into grey and then murder red. Red is my color. It was a new color that I saw again. This was the design of a headache, my eyes would excessively blink, then..11

The bright, the electronic beeps, nurses running. I smell rubber, I smell sickness!! And there I am, looking up at the light bulb. Now under it and it is blinding me. My first reaction was a yawn as black figures outlined and sketched, appearing in simplicity and annoying questions.12

"I am plugged in." I finally spoke. I said something clear that didn't echo in fog.13

"Plugged into what, hun?" Caring but freaked out. I woke up and they were all there to see it. Now they have the next phase worry: Me being who I use to be.14

"A tube."15

He is my tube that feeds me. He is my sickness, I soaked myself in.16

I am filthy in mental poverty. I am young and sleepy, I never had thought of death like this. I felt..infallible. My string has knots and the scissors are dull, the witch is hopeless and her needles are broke.17

"You are free, it's good to see you again!"18

"AGAIN! What are you saying, I'm back from the dead?" I'm confused. I don't even think he finished that last word before I screamed. It is simple terror that I can easily overcome and then complicating..become it.19

"No..you...were in a...coma.." 20

Was that slow enough for you? Hearing those words seemed so false. I mean, don't get me wrong, I knew I was blind but it being just a sleep, with my eyes actually closed? Was that a dream or was it reality? That window, I still remember it but now that I am awake, I cannot go back to it. Well, never say never. 21

Am I in Heaven? It's not the clean room or the flowers and gifts. My, family is it?, surrounding me. I didn't awake, I was BORN!22

When you wake up, you have everything figured out.23

When you are born, you are just starting to figure things out.24

Oddly, I want to go back to the window and rest my head on the round table. All is happening way to fast. 25

He won't help me.26