Graphic Sleep: Chapter Two

You will start to realize that the trigger is your goal, or perhaps theirs.1

"Eat A Bullet"2

Not in suicide terms but perhaps a bit of quick direction that is consumed. And right there on the white screen blurs into a focus. A word: Awake.3

The bold, black, printed stamp on my forehead brands a scar. A mental damage in my heart, a scarlet letter sinking into my skin, my life is in the setting of unforgiving fortune.4

I am describing my cold withered body to you. I am blue. (Blue is my color.) Green are my eyes. Livid are my thoughts. I am pale from the coldness of anger, my stitches are swelling with truth. Difficult breathing, a struggling cult in despair and confronted with the lie. Just shut up, I thought. I am so irritated at the outcome of me. You could define this and write it up to be a form of being bipolar. Not exactly what it really is. Everything is not what it seems. You’re agreeing, aren’t you?5

Inch by inch, you will slowly come to find, the part of me everyone knew. But right now, you’re into something deeper. Complexed beginnings with a simple ending.6

Would you like to continue? Or stop to lick your wounds?7

Stepping into the cold kitchen, like every morning goal after a screaming night of terror. I had to have it. My coffee. He gave me a cup every morning at 6 a.m. while I watched him drive away along with the other silver Saturn’s and on and off sprinklers. The sparkling fake grass. That grass, it never swayed with the wind. I studied him as he left, but the thing is: He never really left. He stayed to dog me around and to piss on my fucking leg. I hate him.  8

"Blink."  A demand that came from his angry voice. 9

"I can't." I plead. I just can't anymore.10

”Bitch.” He snarled.11

“I...” I am speechless and out of the blue with nothing else to say, I broke down in apologies.12

“Sorry, I am so sorry sir, is there anything else I can do?” I said rather quickly.13

“Shut up.” He snapped back to end the conversation.14

After leaving, finally. He made an appearance that is believable to your eyes and sometimes mine. He got in his car and drove away. But I know the truth. He is in the other room, waiting. Just telling myself that seemed like I gave away the secret. Once everything hidden thing is exposed becomes to be false. So now I’m back to thinking, did he really drive away? Its paranoia, it will get to you real hard.15

Ring ring ring...ring ring ring…16

It would ring three times, pause, three more times again. I suspect it being a code, a tapped in conversation, circling the topic, avoiding all key words. I am smarter than those narcotics you slip into my coffee.17

"Hello?" I said when I answered the telephone.18

I shouldn't be answering that parasite, but I couldn't help it. Just wondering who, exactly who was calling, what they wanted and why.19

"Who is this?" I asked in a stutter. 20

There is only one side. That is, because the coin is blank on the other side. It's as if, we were all blind in one eye. It's a pointless side of you. Deep down, we all know it, but never discuss it because we couldn't bring it to words and our damned emotions couldn’t handle it. In simple terms, it could have been deep pain, or hate.21

"Hello...Is anyone there?" I said in a louder tone.22

It was nothing and no one. So I hung up on my only opportunity to communicate with someone. Except, I was talking to that silent side of me who never could answer my questions or even stop to say hello.23

"What were you doing on the phone?" He demanded an answer quickly.24

"Nothing...” The only word that came out was the word from a liar.25

There, there, it's okay. Shrinking in fear...26

I am the size of your thumb. I am, I am the size of your hot wheel car.27

"Please don't." I pleaded.28

My words have tears of their own. My words could create an ocean you could drown in, just like that ocean I was born in front of. My words, they irritate you, they anger you.29

"Put your head down." He demanded.30

Again, this is my only ability that does not harm me physically. After obeying the command, he sat next to me. He pulled up a chair from the table. This chair, by the way, came from the dust that was swept off the table when I rushed my head down. 31

That's not exactly what happened. I did not mention the details of the details of the details.32

Who is he? He...is the half of me. He is a conscience, an aspect of my thoughts. Nothing more than a mental disability.33

He is my disease. 34