Nineteen ’til I Die

Last night it rained. And I stood under my parents’ porch and smoked. The deluge of water on the tin sheeting drowned out everything — traffic, the neighbours, the sound of the TV. Just me and the rain and the dark, like it had been on that first night in December 1990. I stepped out from the porch, and the rain put out my cigarette in an instant. I spat away the shreds of tobacco and let the rain soak me. Remembering them, as I have done a hundred thousand times in the last eighteen years. I can remember the … Continue reading Nineteen ’til I Die

The Fear

It eats at him all the time. Every minute, every moment. Is this all there is? Is this all there ever will be? A history of betrayal like a history of violence that can’t be shaken. Coffee and endless cigarettes. Alcohol that dulls the pain for awhile. And he walks. He’s always walked. And always away. Hiding, walking, pretending. Why’s there no medicine for this — a happy pill that’ll take it all away? He wants to sleep, to sleep for years, to wake up in five in a different world. But he can barely sleep five hours a night. … Continue reading The Fear