Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Up the Wolves II

Beer bottles filled to the brim in the sink. Plastic cups strewn throughout the counter tops. Trash bags that litter the kitchen floor eternally. Refrigerator filled with nothing but Dr. Pepper, spoiled condiments, and beer. Also, some cheese. Empty box of pop tarts in the pantry. Pantry filled with endless amounts of empty crates and other useless shit. Gigantic pile of clothes. Hole in ceiling.


Stuff everywhere. Crates. Clothes. Random bits of junk. Paper. Boxes filled with old family photos. Cosette's toys. Piles upon piles of old, dusty, trashy books. Have to use "paths" to maneuver around everything. Computer desk flooded with old lottery tickets. Half empty beer bottle on computer desk. Computer open on Facebook, mom's profile. Katy Perry blaring through the speakers. Blankets on the couch with a pillow... mom's bed. Cosette playing with one of our Game Boys on the couch. Usually couch is filled up with either clothes or mom. All the walls are painted different, strange colors.

Big den/living room.

Perfectly arranged with impeccable decorations. A bed with plastic covering still on the mattress. No one has slept, and probably never, sleep in this bed. Dreamcatcher on wall.

Mother's room.

Slidy glass door leading to the backyard. Let's not talk about the backyard, or the shed or the garage or the laundry room. Focus on house. Let's move on.

Toy chest open. Toys on the floor. Toys, toys, toys. Toys everywhere. Nice looking furniture. Nice rugs and nice floor. Cute. So many things, all over the floor. Hard not to trip on something then again that can be said for the entire house. Nice big bed. Oh hey Pungo whaddya doing in here.

Cosette's room.

Back into foyer. Up the creaky, hardwood steps.

To your left, trashy yet somewhat sane room. If one puts their ear against the wall, they may be able to hear termites eating away at the walls. The entire house is in a stage of decay, starting with-
My room. 

Next door to my bedroom, a somewhat quaint bathroom with a view of the creek I fetched the pocketwatch at. Black and white checkerboard tiles. Obvious signs of the floor on the verge of caving in, along with the walls. Covered up hole near the bathtub.


Across the hall, a messy, yet at the same time organized, room. Two beds and a thick smell of adolescence and AXE body spray. One bed is quite tidy and the other is quite disheveled.

Brothers' bedroom.

Back down the stairs, into the front yard, and onto the sidewalk. Sunlight. Butterflies. Everything is alive at once and the sky is so blue above me but this fucking house ruins it all. All at once, this house gives me hope and anger. On one hand, I'm surviving within that hellhole. On the other hand, it's where I experience hell in the first place.

My mother looks out of the window suspiciously. I wave to her and leave the yard for a walk.

This is practice.

One day I'm going to leave and I'm not going to come back. 

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