I had on two layers of pants because I thought I deserved one more while I sit on my stone-cemented porch, hungry for smokes.
I had cleaned my room all day and rested my spine. My clothes are neatly stacked, hung on the bar of my closet, or waiting in the dryer for me. My floors are spotless. My desk unchanged and undisturbed. I feasted a few times in few hour intervals and even drank water. I also watered the lawn during my hourly smoke breaks after I noticed that it began to sprinkle. With loaves of bread on my feet, I stood in front of my house with my face to the sky and my chin apart from the ground. It was rain when under me was the steam of a warm day. I was jubilant and careless so I stood there and let the drops crash on my face. When the drops stopped, I took my hose and pointed it toward the sky and waited for my own drops to land on me, hoping my face would look like a Pollock despite the fact that it was just my hose. It was just my faucet.
This is easy, I said.
I shuffled back in my house and found my bed, overcast for me while the fan broke my silence. I read aloud for a few hours because of the respect I wanted to pay the words then listened to music because it feels like I listen to nothing anymore. I tried to write a letter when a good song played on but I never got passed the third line. I couldn't continue such a letter because today I had airdried the rain drops on my face. So I ripped off the page, crumpled it into my hands, then tossed it in the waste basket. I continued to think it easy.
But then the wall that I pathetically stare at stared back at me.
And so I was sitting on a slipper wearing my two layers of pants, feeding myself with smoke, and thinking of the unexpected ways I could be killed right on my porch. I wondered if I could survive a bullet to my chest or being mauled by someone's dog while they took a night walk together. Maybe an insane person have been keeping tabs of my smoke breaks and will slice open my jugular when the hour comes. I was even inspired by a plane overhead and hoped it would crash on my lawn, smashing my bones but leaving my car in the driveway unscratched. There was no way I was dying tonight.
I thought it was easy. But the wall will stare back at me and I'll be on my porch, dazed with the thoughts of how I could get away with it. How I could find a shortcut to this thing I'm starting to think of so easy.
