a hollow status quo
TRANSCRIPT
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8/9/2019 A Hollow Status Quo
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A Hollow Status Quo
Status: Stuck in Limbos waiting room
They follow me wherever I go; there is no escaping them. Glass green are those eyes that
are fixed on mine; eternally nagging with that mask-like gaze. Staring back at them, I see
nothing, nothing. Hollow is what they are; hollow as in empty, as in carved out, as in nothing,
nothing at all. Hollow like this crummy 24 x 25ft apartment; as hollow as shoes when there are
no dirty feet in them. Hollow when all the marrow in your bone is gone, completely gone.
Knocking your fist against thin dry walls, hearing the noise echo slightly in the other room,
hollow. Hollow, is what they are.
They creep up any place I go, in cracked windows, in shattered bottles, and burnt light
bulbs; in dust-caked mirrors, and murky water. In a metallic spoon spotted with sludge, in the
lenses of a never-working camera, in shoes that are too shiny, in glossy pictures of an ugly past;
theyre always there, always watching, never blinking, and never are they closed.
Im not hopeless, am I? If I was I wouldnt be striving for self-control. I can make it
through this. Its only been seventeen hours in a seven-year stretch; its not all for nothing, right?
That idiotic, revolting lamp said it wasnt worth anything, that nobody cares, nobody would
notice. I would care; I said to that repulsive lamp, I do care.
And what are you worth in this world? it retorted. What are you worth to the person
next door; do they even know you exist? Did they notice you have never left this apartment for 2
years? That you talk and talk and talk, yet nobody answers? That nobody is here?
Leave me alone, what do you know? Youre only a foolish, unsightly lamp, what do you
know?
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I know your whole life.
That lamp will never say another word, not another word; nor that moldy, yellow fridge,
or that grubby spoon, not even the moth-eaten couch. Theyll never, ever say anything again.
Status: Off the charts
Those eyes, those eyes, those persistent, hollow, green eyes; go away, leave me be,
disappear from in front of me!
I smell. This whole place smells, but who wants to wash anyway? With a broken
shower there is nothing to do.
Eighteen hours on the clock, eighteen, eighteen, eighteen and a minute...eighteen and two;
time is driving into my head; I feel like a clock. Tick, tick, ticking; sixty seconds to a minute,
sixty minutes to an hour, 24 hours in a day, eighteen have passed, eighteen and five minutes to be
exact.
There doesnt seem much to do. Im being enveloped in pain, pain, pain; I itch, its like
my veins are on fire.
Im pointless, there is no hope. Whom was I trying to fool? But maybe, maybe...there is
always time for a maybe.
My heart pounds, my head is splitting. I am becoming unfocused. I spiral away, trying
to escape the agony.
Those eyes, I want to scream, I want to shout, those perpetual eyes should burn in hell.
Shrivel and die, scorch and burn, make scarce, I dont want you, I dont need you, you disgust
me, go, vanish, leave, never appear again.
Forward and back, I rock trembling uncontrollably as a waterfall erupts from me.
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Splashing down my cheeks, streaks of shimmering light; pelting down on my clasped hands,
scorching them with salty anger. Clenched shut, I strangle them one bye one.
Only time will tell how long Ill last, thats all it can do.
Status: Shake n Bake
A pound, a throb; it is what I have become. Still those eyes wont waver, for so long
theyve stayed, boring into my being.
Im at my limit, I think. My breath is a gasp, my throat is parched. The world spins, Im
tumbling in a dryer, a small, dirty dryer. Who cares, no one hears me, no one sees me, I am not
smelled, I am not felt, neither am I known, so am I here?
My hands shake uncontrollably, my stomach hurts; intense agony wracks my body, but
whywhy? I give up, I dont care anymore, I cant take it,I cant! I tried and failed, its the
purpose for which I was born.
I heave myself upward; I wobble forward towards my decrepit bedroom. I tumble slowly
downward, landing dully; my aches cancel out everything else.
I scramble for that loose board, my little secret, my glorious heaven. It is there, right
there; I shake too much. I am fueled by my want, by my need, by those green eyes; I slam my fist
into the thin floor, I am steady as a rock. I crash into pure Nirvana; my hand is a mess with
blood racing down the knuckles, and pooling at the creases; wooden slivers are staked into my
fingers. But whos to know? I reach out my arms and seize my bliss.
Indian style, thats how Im sitting; gazing at a black case worn from use. Scratches cover
the hard, plastic sides; the opening is covered with duct tape, clean, and fresh. Its 5 x 6in and it
has been with me for seven years, seven long, unrelenting years. I am overwhelmed for several
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minutes; eighteen and a half hours can be such a long, agonizing time. Like a kid, I am eager,
and itching to open the worn case. Breathing deeply, I rip off the tape and relish in hearing the
pop of it open. Tears well up, I am so happy, so very, very happy at what is there. This is what
I find: a magical spoon, my first and only, along with the mystical lighter that bakes my bliss.
The beauty of all beauties honors me with her services, she is my first love, my one and only; tall
and proud she stands straight up in her clear dress with black stitching, wearing the sexy, silver
stilettos that shes never without. Dr. Fil, often found in Camels, and Marlboros; in those white
and brown sticks of fiery smoke. How hard he works to keep the insistent impurities at bay.
Mary and Joseph, together forever, wedded as citric acid and water. Jesus is the belt wound
tight on my right. Domineering he stands, God the immortal, God the Messiah, God the
manipulative white powder at my fingertips.
Mary and Joseph are joined with God in the magical spoon, over the flame; through Dr.
Fil up into my love there to be joined together in sin. Jesus is tight on my right, m lady slips into
my withered veins; and all together we are bound in this crummy apartment.
Status: All together now
God pumps through my body, soothing my pain, steadying my shaking hands, yet those
hollow, unceasing eyes are still there, across the way they stare; ripping my soul apart they stare,
green as money, green as grass, green as envy. More I need more; again God shoots through me,
into me, becoming me. We are one and the same, we are joined as one extreme, I am God; God
is me.
Why wont they go away? They stay there across the way; unmerciful, accusing me,
what did I do? What did I do?
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More
He surges up and down me. He quiets my head, and calms my heart, blocks my ears, and
plugs my nose. My mouth is left to catch the air; my eyes are still open staring into those
seemingly ineradicable, hollow, green eyes. More and more they empty, more and more they dig
into me, more and more I converge with God. My arm is numb, my body is cold, my heart
pounds, my lungs ache, my breathe is short. Across the way theyre there, I claw and scramble
to reach them. My arm collapses, I pull my self along. I cant breathe, I cant breathe; closer
and closer I come; no smell, no sound, no feeling, my sight is surrounded by a haze, I am at the
edge, I have reached my self. I have no strength, all I can do is look straight into those eyes,
those hollow...obsessive...green eyes and watch as they slip shut.