Mind Tavern

The rusty doorknob opened to a half lit room, past noon. The white-washed walls greeted me with a spray of bleach. The silent air reflected across the room, slightly penetrated by the solemn drawing of breath. I peeked through my naive eyes into the dim cataract of a wrinkled face. After piecing the fragments of my face, a deep exhale acknowledged my presence. A twitching finger overturned a tray of assorted pills. The floor turned into a canvas boasting of exotic colours of amnesia, lipids as well as the mediocre paracetamol. I wondered if there was a cure in this abstract caricature. Heavy lids struggled to hold onto life. Wilted wrists were violated from every pore, slowly discharging clever concoctions that will nearly do the trick, but not quite. I held them, the ones that made sandcastles, earned bread, supported the beloved, those frail hands craved warmth. Ironical, indeed. "Will you pray?" The lack of incense and imagery got me there for a second. It had

The summer comes down pretty hard around these parts. But that doesn't stop some pesky visitors from making my life unbearable. Do you know how many times I have cleaned up after summer break parties? I did sign up for this. But if I wanted my paycheck to be sliced in half because some stupid man got their insides nibbled by a grizzly, my ex-wife would've been just fine. I'm telling you there's a scam in the ranger service because I don't see any of the money they are pouring into it, especially not after the batch of canned soup they sent in last week. Don't get me wrong, this job has its ups and downs. But, sometimes the low points are just too deep to fathom. One minute you're picking up cheap booze, and the next thing, someone is wiping your brains from the cliffrock. Did not talk to old Chris much, but he was one of the good ones. My window has a good view of the wilderness. Maybe, that's why I am still here. You would think that your ghosts,

The world looks bleak through curtailed holes. I used to wait for grey clouds, not because they brought in rain, but because I could hear and smell them within my confinement. I always thought the droplets from the sky healed you, poured in between the gaps and stretched out to fill them. There were numerous times when I crawled down that stairwell to taste the north wind, until that high window in the dark corridor pulled me back into that simultaneous state of equilibrium and entropy. In moments of lucidity, I would often carry myself to the shoreline. The wee hours of dusk and dawn look like a colorful spill in a bar on a Friday night. I never felt special or gifted in any sense, but in moments like this, I could just listen to my blood, at least in those parts that were alive. The sea is pretty sympathetic to a visitor. I remember the time when the breeze carried away my crutches. I felt defeated, but the water would rush in and try to pretend as if my voids weren’t real, th