Sweaty pillow

Sweaty pillow.

I hope that I sleep through the night. I don’t know how many more days of wandering through the dull ringing and blur of fatigue I can stand. My eyes are constantly heavy and fall at every sliver of opportunity.

Even the booze has become ineffective. I shot plenty of it down so far, but it only makes my heart sick when it should be wringing out a little of its pain.

No TV. No radio. No books. Damn it, it all only reminds me of what is lost. Wasted so disturbingly. I cannot shut my eyes tight enough to keep from seeing how the Mad Fool has burned his life down once again.

Rain is coming. A heavy down pour is expected. The neighbors, my barber and the girl at the deli who sells me fried chicken are all talking about it like it’s a monster returned to the village.

I am waiting too. Except, I know that the monster has never left the village. He only hides till the rain comes. Waits till it falls relentless in the night. The monster slips through the streets and their dreams, looking for a way to kill the Mad Fool for good. And keep him from fucking things up ever again.

I hope that this time the monster finds the Fool and bites his head off. I will be there with them both, in the dark and the rain. Maybe then the monster and I will finally get some rest and enjoy the day after what a good rain brings.


About magnumturtle

I write fiction.
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