Rage was wafting in my mind as the birds chirped gayly in the evening air. I popped an antihistamine and smoked a joint as I mourned the passing of my hamster. I lit a cigarette as the neighbor’s dogs were grating on my nerves, barking like possessed banshees.
I leaned forward. Swinging my head back and forth in a head-banging like fashion. Bashing my forehead into the patio table until my ears were ringing just how I like them. The neighbors across the street were watching me with binoculars. I know they were. They are always watching.
It was dark outside then. The crickets were chirping. I could smell violence in the air. I checked The Drudge Report on my phone because I hate myself.
17 DEAD; SHOOTING IN NY SUSHI BAR
I tossed the phone from my porch in disgust. I heard it land softly in some tall grass. I should have just stomped it. I sat in darkness seething, praying for a sudden impact event as the moon mounted the darkness like a necrophiliac on a fresh corpse.
A nearby street lamp turned my porch into a lighted stage. I disrobed and climbed atop the patio table. The night was a foul whore. The cool air nipped at my testicles. I cursed in unending blood curdling screams to drown out the wailing dogs next door. The neighbors were surely entertained.
Nothing is ever solved.
I can hear the feeble minded primates copulating in the bushes. We can only hope that the coming war blossoms into nuclear suicide.
Until then I’ll sit here under constant surveillance. As low as a man can be; invoking murder fantasies of disemboweling the earth with a sharpened piece of mammoth bone. Watching Mother Gaia bleed out from afar as I drift into the sun, chain-smoking cheap cigarettes the whole way.
J.T. Edwards is a misanthropic hilljack hailing from the Southern Appalachia. He’s had poetry published in Spectral Realms. You can find him on twitter @JT2688