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Words make the world go round ...
|The Suicide Man
The Suicide Man
Iím awake. Thereís an angel next to me. Sheís hanging in the middle of my room. She has a meat hook through her stomach. Her wings are bloody and brown. Her eyes are the ocean.
I sit up. I open the top draw on my night stand. I reach in and pull out a gun. Itís black like oil and cold as hell. I put it in my mouth. The angel shakes. I suck the barrel off for a second and pull the trigger and blow half my fuckiní head against the piss yellow wall. Iím dizzy. DizzyÖdizzyÖdizzy. I reach for a cigarette. I light it and stand up. My knees buckle. I inhale and watch in the mirror as the smoke funnels up and out of the back of my broken skull. I throw on a pair of jeans and my denim coat. I put my cigarette out on the angelís chest. She drools blood onto my hand.
I walk along the street, kind of playing a beat in my head. Bip-bop-bidip-badip-badip-badip. My back is soaked from blood and brain and my mouth is filled with gooey, white chalk that used to be my teeth and like always, I donít feel anything.
I stop in front of a storefront, a ten foot wall of mirrored glass. I try to see my blown out skull from behind. Iím craning my neck but all I see is the tattoo on the side of my shaved head. Itís one a.m.. A dog is barking. I pick up a garbage can and throw it through the window. The glass is a waterfall, crashing and exploding onto a cement river. I pick up a piece of the broken window. I let it skip along my wrist once, then again, and on the third time I dig in and slice myself from my hand to my elbow. It stings, I think. Blood blows out everywhere.
A few shards still hang inside the pane. I put my other arm up, roll my sleeve up to my bicep and dig the glass into my elbow pit. I yank my arm down and let the glass ride. It cuts through my forearm, and hand, and out from between my middle and ring fingers. I shiver and I think I just came in my pants. I reach for my pack of cigarettes. They fall to the ground and a couple loose smokes roll towards the street, trying to escape. I kneel down and pick one up in my mouth. I light it.
Itís ladies night so I go in. I order a bottle of vodka. An ex-girlfriend walks up. She says I look great. We hug and my blood is all over her. She asks what Iíve been up to. I try to say nothing much, but I throw up on her shirt before I can get the words out. She says we should get together sometime. I pour the vodka all over me and say that sounds cool but really Iím not interested, that Iím not really looking for a relationship right now. She hugs me again and back peddles away smiling. She tells me again how good I look. I light a match and light myself on fire. She waves and I walk out.
Iím still on fire and I walk into an all-night convenience store. I buy four bottles of aspirin and a gallon of anti-freeze. I open the aspirin and swallow every pill in each bottle in succession and wash them down with green poison. I walk back out and it starts to rain, hard. Smoke climbs up into the sky as the rain is putting me out. My skin is peeling, melting, off. I can see my heart pumping strong under my rib cage.
I walk into an abandoned building. Thereís music, loud music. I follow it. Someone is hanging in front of me, hanging from a noose thatís wrapped around their neck, thatís wrapped around a piece of pipe jutting out twenty feet above. Itís a girl. Her face is pale white and her eyes, sunken. She says hi over the screaming stereo and I say hi back. On her neck, just above the noose, just above the noose that turning her throat into blood, she has the same tattoo that I have on my head.
I ask what sheís doing later. She says she doesnít know. I ask if she wants me to get her down. She shrugs her shoulders. I push the chair back under her feet.
Out on the street everybody is the same as us. Young, alone, and dying to die.
We walk for a mile or a year and weíre not really talking. Weíre both looking at each other, and Iím thinking how ugly she is and sheís probably thinking the same about me. She reaches down and holds my right hand in her left. My blood spurts onto her hand and sleeve.
We walk onto the train tracks. We face each other as the light and the noise from the 1:36 bear down on us. She pulls me close. Twenty tons of screaming metal is tearing through brisk, October air. I can feel the ground shaking. Weíre facing each other. The horn sounds and blows out our eardrums. Blood drips out of the holes where my ears used to be, before they burned off. Everything is silent as the light swallows us. She leans in and kisses me on my mouth and then so does the trainÖ
All Rights Reserved
Michael Sonbert 2006
Michael Sonbert is a New York born author. His first novel, The Never Enders, will be available in April 2007. www.michaelsonbert.com
|Tags: michael sonbert, absoluteink