Wake Up

My text message machine sits empty as people go about their busy lives. A Fourth day in a row with a ingrown toe.

Left over potatoes sear in the fat of unwanted bacon. They sit next to a half a glass of sprite. 2 slices of white bread. The fluorescent bulb flickers. I watch it burn out. Empty pizza box. A bottle of champagne.

I wipe my ass raw from my third shit. I watch the red flecks disappear down the toilet. I wonder where they go. What kind of life they will have. They half dissolve on the way down.

I limp through the apartment careful to avoid putting to much weight on my toe. I pour a bottle of hydrogen peroxide on the blood stained nail. I watch the foam bubble up.

I think about showering. It is 2 in the afternoon. My feet are cold because I opened the windows. It is raining. The rain smell mixes with the cloud of bacon fat to form a smog over my life. The trashcans are overflowing. Several sets of dice litter the dining room table. A bottle of liquor remains stuck to the table. The smell of bananas is overwhelming.

I should have a worse hangover. I remember bits of things. Star Trek on TV. The episode where Kirk fights a Greek God. A girl is running around in a pink dress with no shoulder straps. She has small breasts. I think Kirk has sex with her.

I start the dishwasher. I glance at the left over dishes. 4 wine glasses. 4 shot glasses. I need to take out the trash. I need to shower. My face feels grimy. I may have smeared the bacon fat. I look dumbly in the mirror. I hope to see something that is not there. I see the growing scalp line appear where once there was hair. The computer hums in the background.

Work calls me. I ignore the call. I grind my teeth. My hands are too cold to type.