Spoiled Milk

Vomit. There is a vile demon in my stomach with a stink so foul that when I gasp for air my body shutters with a memory that I am still alive.

Hunger. Nothing satisfys it. It will always and forever be hungry no matter what I shove into it's large mouth. I can fill it up until it gets so full it falls over immbolie, but it will not be satified.

Heartburn. Twisting and tearing, an acid overload makes my insides reflex as if I were vomiting. It confuses my body to think that it is hungry. Heartburn. Freakin heartburn. Depression. Frustration. Vomit.

Stupid rants. Stupid thoughts. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid money. Stupid people. Stupid porn. Stupid needs. Stupid friends. Stupid weather. Stupid rotten milk. Stupid white kids.

I have not touched my studies in what feels like months (it's probably been two or three weeks). I feel completely dull. Daily dos and dids constists of looking for work, photography, time with rats, eatings, sleeping and memory retrival.

I had broken into my dad's house yesterday at around 4:50PM. I had knocked on the doors and thrown rocks at the open windows. He did not answer. There was no sound it the house. But the windows were open. I checked his old dark grey car. Spiderwebs, coffee cans that held ciggerate butts and ashes, dust, trash, and three pine scents thingys hung where the knob for the windshield wipers are at. I looked for keys to the house. I reached around and pulled at stuff without getting in. I got desperate, I stuck my head in and got stuck in thick layers of spiderwebs. I closed the door and said that I would find another way.

I continued throwing and knocking at the doors and windows. Nothing. Convinced that he had overdosed himself and is laying dead somewhere in the house. I went around the house for the uneempth time and pushed at the dirty and rusty screen of the window. It held. I probed and pulled at the sides and bottom of the screen, damaging my midnight blue painted nails and pushed it inwards. A man from the other house came out and told me no one was there. I stopped what I was doing and looked at him. He repeated himself.

"When will he be back?"

"Probably eight or nine." The mexican man in the whtie shirt told me.

"Oh..."

"He's probably at work, is his car there?" He walked around to the other side of my dad's house and I followed him.

"Yeah, it's all dusty."

"He has another one, a white one." The man told me.

"Do you talk to him?"

"Sometimes." The man peaked at the parking area. "Oh, no, he's not here."

We walked back. "He'll be back around eight or nine." He told me again. I thanked him and went back to the window.

I stuck my fingers underneath the screen frame and bent it outwards. I tossed the screen frame that was bent at a forty-five degrees and got onto the stairs railing. I stood there on the fragile wooden railing and shifted my weight over to the window. Now, I could be stuck like this, or I can push off the railing, letting my neighbors see my underwear as I roll into the house. I pushed off and rolled in.

I got up, dusting off the dust and closed the window. I sat there on the couch, alone in the dark while my vision adjusted to the darkness of the house. It stunk of ciggerates, vodka and mold. Nothing has changed. Everything is still in the same place. The only thing that was different was that there was mold everywhere, the ceiling drooping downwards, papers and trash scattered everywhere, the only light in the house that works is the kitchen light. I needed to wash my hands and I needed to use the freaking toliet.

The water is shut off. The bathroom looked like it belonged in a Rob Zombie film.

I entertained myself while waiting for my dad to come home by memorising what he had in the fridge and cabinat. I didn't look at what was on the papers.

I sat in the living room again. I heard those familiar footsteps comming down the hallway. So, it wasn't my imagination. I had always hated that hallway, whatever it or they are, had always messed with me. Whatever it was, it's weight made me feel uneasy. I was expecting mirrors to shatter and things to fly accross the room.

I turned on the computter, I opened up notepad and told him I was there, that I stilled loved him and I wished him well, I opened up paint and drew a rabbit comming out of a cake and eating a pink donut. I know it means nothing and I meant nothing by it except for him to smile a little at my ridiculous drawing. I left.