Forty five Ninety five South
Category: Writing and Poetry
I grew up on Poseidon Drive, forty five ninety five was the South. When I was twelve or so, somewhere around eighth / ninth grade, there was a murder up the street. I remember hearing “He cut her hands” and that still haunts me so much so that typing that line made my anus cringe. A weird and tingly vulnerable cringe, like a bad dream.
I want to tell you, I need to tell you that the first time I saw weed it was in a tiny round black film case. The lid was grey. All the film case lids that I have seen since are the same pale grey color. I imagine that girls dead hands being that same pale gray color and it makes me want run away.
I was three or so the first time I tried to run away. I can still feel the presence of my poor exhausted mother as she pulled our big 70’s, mostly steel, sedan to the side of the road and pleaded with me to come back home. I’m sure I must have been really upset, but I can’t remember why. I wish I could go back in time and console both of us.
Once at a birthday party the kids put bleach in my cup and tried to get me to drink it. Now If I close my eyes and relax I can smell the scent of bleach as clearly as If a cup of it were directly beneath my nose. I wonder if that is a gift of some sort, though I can’t possibly imagine its use would be.
They played pin the tail on the donkey, but I didn’t get any of the delightful prises from the paper donkey, instead I cut my eye on the finder of our neighbor’s Schwinn bike and ran home screaming with what felt to be a permanent red filter on my vision. Turns out it wasn’t permanent.
Sometimes I feel so frightened by my own existence, that conscious moment when I realize that I am actually here on earth and alive, that I want to jump out of my body. I don’t… I can’t imagine there is any cure insight for such a feeling.
At age eight or so I became terrified by the idea of a baby carriage. A baby carriage and in its center it was softly cradling a single mouse beneath a warm blanket. I became so terrified by that thought that I struggled to will my body up the stairs to my bedroom after dark. It was and to this day still is the single most evil image my mind could fathom.
Getting drunk off wine gives me a similar awful feeling. I once heard that native American’s are allergic to alcohol. I often wonder if that feeling is partly responsible for the devastating effect Alcohol has had on their people.
About three years ago I awoke from a nap after feeling, what I would call a spirit, trying to communicate with me from the other side. It appeared to me as if it were a child crying out for my help. I decided to go back to sleep to see if It would contact me again, maybe show me a sign or hint as to how I could help it.
It did contact me again, and it was neither a child nor anything even remotely resembling a human but rather a monster. It was more of a monster than the name monster itself could ever hope to imply. Because of that experience I am unable to sleep without a light on.
I am embarrassed to admit that I often wonder if I would be good at reasoning with desperate people. You know the kind who climb towers what what not. I often imagine an outdoor setting where I empathize with them so well that they find the strength to return to society. The strength to continue on, even at the expense of having to spend the remainder of their life in prison for whatever they did to make me have to talk them down in the first place. On second thought I think that is a really fucking corny fantasy.
I don’t want to share things like that with you, but I am unable to stop myself out of fear that my time will pass and I will have failed to find out what my purpose is. “I finally found my special purpose!” Steve Martin- The Jerk
When I was around age six I remember sitting at the top of a staircase. I was eves dropping on two frightened girls conversation about the Bundy murders. I was so haunted by what I had heard that I erased the stair case in my mind so that nothing below could possibly reach me, but even that failed to comformt me. What I had heard made me sick with fear. Have you ever been sick with fear? It is like having the flu, but instead of a virus you are fighting a trillion tiny demons off as they attack your physical senses. To this day I regret listening in on their conversation.
Sometimes… Sometimes I see rust, or trash laying on the sidewalk… signs that life is passing, turning, returning, decaying maybe? I don’t really know the word for it, but just signs in general that life has a momentum, a direction it is going, and that nothing I can ever do will stop or even slow its path. that feeling defeats me, it always defeats me.
There are moments in life when I realize that I am inadequate. I often discover these moments during times of intense frustration. Times when it becomes so blatantly obvious that I do not possess whatever skill or strength I need to overcome the obstacle at hand,that I just want to die. In those moments my body feels as if it will vibrate off track.
There are a wide array of feelings so down right awful that having felt them I can understand why and how some people chose to end their own lives through suicide. If heaven is north, I believe hell is here on earth. My guess is that it is either at or near forty five ninety five south.
I should go to sleep soon, but I don’t want to sleep I just want to eat bacon. It may seem is if they have little to do with each other, but they do. They have everything to do with each other. Sleep bad, bacon good.
Last night I felt a billion pounds of darkness fall upon my spirit. It was as if all the good in the entire Universe had vanished in the time span of a single moment . More frightening than the absence of good was the feeling that I had lost the desire to live. I am certain that I can endure any amount of emotional or physical pain, but without the desire to keep going, that delicately precious desire to continue on, I am lost all together. I wept. Today I can’t feel even a trace of that feeling. The morning sun drove that feeling away. It is gone forever.