There has been a storm

There has been a storm here. At least so it seems. Dust, dirt, diversion lies around me, scattered. It’s an unwashed bed sheet that takes my weight now. Beneath that a filthy mat! Hundreds of wasted cigarette boxes and a beer can!

I can see my mobile lying there. Dead as I didn’t feel like putting it on charge! None will call me anyway. I keep on typing on my laptop cause there is none around whom I can say a word. Not that I am mad for finding someone, Not that I am sad to miss company. But solitude gives rise to questions of uncanny self-calamity.

At one corner in a plug, the all-out blinks on. I never switch it off. When I go to bed and make the room dark, that keeps blinking like a distant mirage which gives me hope. My sienheisser head phones are lying on one corner. It looks unused. But I have lost taste for music.

There has been a storm around. Or so it seems. Slimy creatures walk the earth which I trod upon. Often smashing them with feet gives me the sadistic pleasure that I not yet got rid of. There is blood around. That of the killed ones. Killed and obliterated from memory. Of friendship of trust. There is a spider weaving its net. I have ruined its effort to earn a livelihood a number of times, yet it keeps on. Perseverance lies around me. Not a drop inside. Intelligent thoughts roam inside my brain, none are listened to.

At one corner lies a heap of clothes. Don’t feel like washing them anymore. My expensive shoes have bore marks of filth. Never are they gonna get a gift of polish. What for is life? It lies around me in filth, in scum, in dirt. In endless diseases bacterias virii. None of them give me the gift of death.