Heart of Mine

A Story by Raven Starhawk

When liquor becomes your only means of compassion...

HEART OF MINE

Engorged on cheap cola and ice cream I rolled onto my back and gazed up at the ceiling. Creators of said wonders provoked my senses as they filled with grand input that opened a floodgate of questions.

Malibu...? I forgot what it was I...wanted to do. Or maybe it was something I wanted to say. I can hardly remember what I wore yesterday or if I even got out of bed. It's all a blur actually. Then again the entire week has been a blur.

Some say I drink too much. I say I don't drink enough. The only thing I have in life is a bottle of scotch or whisky. I sometimes prefer Jack Daniels, but I love all brands of drink as long as it numbs my senses and shifts me far away from this rat infested s**t hole I call home.

Wait a minute.... Does that make sense? It sounded better in my head, but there are too many voices there already. No, I am just joking. I barely have lights on upstairs let alone a voice. Picture a lone candle with a small flame and a dying cow mooing in a cobwebbed corner; that is my mind. Hmmm...it sounds more like an accurate description of my crotch actually.

I haven't had a man in...? What year is it again? I think it might be...? Have I ever had a man? S**t, I can't think straight. Don't blame my booze! Don't ever blame my paradise liquid! It's so beautiful, rich and slithers on down with a sharp bite.

Guess I better make another batch of youth formula. Then I can...do something. I can't remember.

I lay back and watched the rain hammer against the window. I imagined their stinging cold needles on my face as I raised the bottle of Peppermint Schnapps to my lips. Considering how hot it has been as of late it would down right delightful. Then the warm liquid slithered down my throat and all was washed from my mind.

Every few seconds my belly rumbled and my muscles tensed. Moments later bouts of expelled gas would drift to my nostrils and I coughed. Some were warm and similar to death while others barely emitted a noise or stench.

I don’t try to deny truth when it stares me in the face. Some may believe love is missing somewhere in the whole puzzle. It would be so simple to agree, but my heart is reserved for something else. But it is like beating a dead horse. No one cares.

I need…something, but the world doesn’t have it as a favor. In order to achieve a goal work has to be enabled. Then again work isn’t the other thing to take under your wing. I…. My mind is sinking into a realm of dancing brooms and glitter rain.

Cotton Candy Vodka bodies sparkled under a beaming Jack Daniels sun. Normally I wouldn’t cast a second glance, but as warmth flushed my face I absorbed the beauty of it all. What propelled the sweet scented air? Why is it when I sweat my butt crack itches? Such questions roamed my conscious as I took another drink.

The other day I was approached by my sibling Towns. As usual he proceeded to tell me what a douchebag I was while I lay in my small inflatable pool, legs dangling over one circular edge while resting my head on another, and he asked when I was going to do something with my existence.

“All you do is laze around in this child pool drinking crap,” he said.

What was so bad about that? At least I wasn’t going out and harassing dogs and cats with toilet rolls. I could always be bumming money from strangers on the street. Actually that isn’t a bad idea. I may initiate that on another time.

My response to him was, “So then should I get my cheeks pierced, take pictures of my s**t and try to kill myself on some social media website?”

Obviously he wasn’t amused. He just stared at me for about a minute and sighed. Seriously though what was it he expected me to do? I mean I am not really society friendly. There are many different types of people. The ones I fail to get along with are those who think their a******s poop gold. They prance around like stuck up fairies dressed in designer clothes and are the type to really do some crazy judging. In retaliation I just found where they lived and used their mailboxes as my toilet. I waited until eating an insane amount of Taco Bell and when the diarrhea commenced there was an endless flow to fill each and every one.

Then you have the backstabbers who pretend to be your friend until your back is turned or someone more popular than you decided you are a loser. For these sad people I tend to take a different route. Diarrhea is much too good for them. A little more creativity has to be engineered here.

Let’s see…. I decorated their trees in the front yard with used tampons. It was like Christmas! I weaved used toilet paper around the branches and for a little more glamor I sprayed semen on each leaf. It wasn’t necessarily as white as snow, but it did the trick. I don’t want to explain how I came into contact with all these things. Let’s just say I have my sources.

My mind is sort of clouding over. Again don’t blame my booze. My booze is my…? I guess it is like my lover although I don’t have sex with it. However…I wonder what that would be like. I suppose it would depend on the bottle and if it was glass or plastic. Plastic would be safer. Glass might break and then you’ll have a serious mess on your hands.

Wait…what? My mind is all over the place. Maybe that is why Towns believes I am unable to re-connect with society. Perhaps to some extent I agree with him, but I can’t turn down his dare.

Whew! I am riding the alcohol train! There are always highs and lows, sharp turns and loops. The part I do not look forward to is the crash. I may not worship the porcelain throne like humans do, but it still has me screwed to the point where I have scarcely any control over my powers. Sometimes I set s**t on fire with a belch or freeze an entire field with a fart. Or maybe it is the other way around. Well it doesn’t matter. I am getting off base here.

I forgot now what the hell I was talking about. Maybe I’ll take a nap and then I will remember. Of course sleep is a silly notion considering I don’t need it. Maybe I’ll listen to animals farting instead. Either way I am given great comfort.

Perhaps tomorrow I will try to figure out how I may return to…the world of crap. It doesn’t seem likely that tomorrow will be any better to prepare for it, but I got to at least try. And right now I am losing the battle against senility.

Before dawn comes the storm and the storm rains down upon you blood of the innocent. Can you not feel it? The truth is buried deep and you refuse to unearth it. For what reason do you continue to mute me? I am the part of you that....

On sour strings a sad note played and for a moment I listened though its harmony was ill practiced. My nose wrinkled. Should it have a scent, it would surely be that of green baby poop. But you know trying to argue baby poop smells bad is wrong in some strongholds.

With a belch the assault on my eardrums ceased. Once upon a time I knew a composer of melancholy. It never before struck me as pathetic until a day in May. My underwear was creeping up my sweaty crack and all I could do to muster an ounce of relief was to sit or lay in my kiddie pool while listening intently to Towns and Razor, my siblings, gossip about Helga and T-Bone.

The Victim Card strolled forth wearing an expression matching that of a constipated dog. She proceeded to spout mindless garbage about this and that. The focus dared to never shift from her difficult life though others tried by steering to another person. When they eventually succeeded she’d throw her little tantrum and storm off as though the world was against her.

Everything was always about her. If someone was talking about someone else her temper would rise, but everyone knew she had a short fuse anyway. I since farted whenever she waddled into view. I did this as a defense mechanism in order to navigate her elsewhere. No longer did I desire to subject my mind to such profound stupidity.

Wait a minute. What the hell am I talking about again? I am supposed to be carefully devising a plan. How to reconnect with society, right? S**t. Society is a casualty of its own twisted doing. Why would I want to be associated with something so blah? Dead man’s dingy…I don’t know where or how to start.

Victim Card was a wonderful example of how certain people operate. So am I going to seek out narcissistic vermin who believe the world revolves around them? Why can’t I live the way I want without that trouble? I just don’t want to understand such model behavior. I can’t suggest proper human function, but this surely isn’t it.

A person has specified a discourse about how deprived and burdened she is, that she's a target of condition, and everybody seems to be out to get her. The dilemma is that the person formulating all these accounts is a villain. This can be played numerous ways. An Unscrupulous B*****d will designate a state of affairs to make a third party consider that the Unscrupulous B*****d is a decent guy, and the real decent guys are callous and malevolent and out to get him for no good cause. The A*s may legitimately have confidence in the grievances, but the spectators can more often than not acknowledge a sympathy party over self-inflicted wounds.

Whether the supplementary individuals accept as true the crocodile tears also varies on who they are. The inexperienced, uninformed of the in progress status quo, will as a rule buy it. Persons who were there will know better. When a conned fellow apprehends that they've been bamboozled, they will not be content.

Why do people have to make it so s****y for others? Have you opened your eyes yet? I am still waiting.

Across the Desert Nile I watched as amber wings lifted. They stretched like satin curtains and blotted out the sun. Time now for some Jack Daniels and the bottle was cool against my greedy lips as I drank.

This morning my farts smelled like burnt sausage. At first it was a curious scent, but after a while it sincerely began to sour my nostrils. Maybe if I drink enough the odor will change and these thoughts weighed heavy upon me as I inched toward the vortex.

Damn. Its swirly colors bulged inward then outward. Considering my slightly impaired faculties distorted sound and light it seemed nearly dreamlike, but as I stumbled toward it I embraced its electric crackle and spun through a vibrant tunnel. At the end was hard ground and cruel fragrances. Scrambling to my feet and taking another large gulp of my amber hope I quickly realized large animals running away.

“What,” I slurred. “I didn’t fart! Or did I?”

Those fat b*****s on all fours had no sense of direction. Damn their asses were huge. Why were they colored weird? Was their creator drunk or something? My vision doubled and I shifted my attention.

“So this is Earth,” I asked myself.

The pasture had no particular aroma since those beasts fled. It was simply green. Now those beings lingered in the distance. They moved slowly, bowing their heads to gobble on grass and squirt foul liquid from their hindquarters.

Unable to stomach the sight I wandered toward a river. It was solid and unmoving, black and warm. Speedy carriages whipped along its length without sinking. What was this magic? As I made an attempt to step out upon it I swallowed the last bit of tawny paradise and tossed the useless bottle over my shoulder.

Unfortunately my legs were disobedience double butt holes and buckled. Having use of my arms still I clawed my way onto the shoulder. By this time I was leaving in my wake a trail of salvia and making rude music with my anus. At least it kept nature’s pests away as there seemed to be an endless assortment consorting with withered bushels and mini dirt hills.

A few pebbles found their way into my mouth. I rolled my tongue over them, tasting their gritty hardness and spit them out. Fatigue set in and eventually it took me. With my veins pulsing with liquor I embraced the darkness. It couldn’t have come at a better time however failed to keep me and I bolted upright.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, I remember. I didn’t want to move though. I really didn’t want to pick myself up and stroll toward civilization. I already knew what waited there.

“S**t,” I slurred and reluctantly stood. I couldn’t put it off any longer. I just needed to sober up a bit, but then again the sober world was far too harsh. It was boring and plagued by miserable idiots who fed on sexual deviants. Actually screw it. I will just go ahead and roam into the belly of the beast. If memory serves me correctly humans have great liquor stores. That was motivation enough for me to resume my staggering.

Listening to electric beeps as motorized machines reversed I staggered off the narrow gray path and farted. It was difficult to discern the configuration of such machinery as it raced past with rubber boots kicking up smoke. Either it was a diabolical atrocity forged in the heat of lunacy or someone with perfect vision slowly pieced together the blueprints in a mutated brain stem.

From a dark corner a figure emerged. It thrust its foul odor upon me and as it penetrated my nostrils I narrowed my sight. The thing continued to stagger from its sinister housing. The poor structure wilted as a gentle breeze rushed over it and it fell defeated and useless.

“My house,” the drunkard slurred.

A house comprised of cardboard? What sort of joke was this? Surely humans built sturdier means of refuge.

Then shifting his attention, he asked, “Can you spare a dime or two?”

Grime caked tuffs of beard and streaked across a wrinkled valley that seemed to only cease at his tattered wool cap. I leaned closer, unsure of my eyes and squinted. With the hot liquid in my veins I staggered back onto the tar river and sniffed. The stench of rotten fart was everywhere.

Speeding metal monsters screamed as they swerved around and passed. They shone beneath the mighty power gleaming down from above. It wasn’t a creative source of brilliance, but then again it was rather difficult to see anything other than painted faces and artificial smiles. If I didn’t know any better I’d have guessed this was a world of generic pleasures and fake promises.

It was then a window display with image producing boxes drew me close. Oddly it was different from the one I remembered, owned and helped to sculpt. My senses absorbed millenniums worth of information as I pressed my face flat against the glass.

To hell with the rest, I decided. There was no possible way I’d be able to process it all anyway…or at least at the moment. My thoughts spilled back and forth between cups and neither completely filled to the brim. I doubt it’d ever matter much because as of now I was swimming in sea waves and nonsense. Damn terrain under my feet refused to remain still!

From the opaque reserves of my character delay leaving self-abhorrence merely to apprehend I am unaccompanied and permanently despondent in the verity. I am an unqualified malfunction and need to breathe my last breath. Like a despicable syndrome because subsequent to this problematical exertion have naught to demonstrate on behalf of it and there is no assistance. I comprehend I have no aptitude. I appreciate I have no raison d'être.

Yes, the rush of rational thought coursed through me as my vision cleared. Echoes around me silenced into ringing silence and as my footing steadied I turned toward a gang of clamoring females. They pointed, giggled and strutted about as though they ruled the avenue. Whoever passed by they would repeat the ritual unless one met their approval and then they’d straighten up and thrust their chests out.

It started as a mere flame, but quickly ignited into a wild conflagration that set forth uncontrollable irritation and anger within. My eyes reddened. The heat generated a blood red hue that spider webbed down and around, mapping through my face, neck and limbs as fine lines.

Coming at me at forty-five miles an hour, a fourteen wheeler shouted and screeched as its wielder attempted to swerve and cease the metal beast. I thrust a palm outward in its path and crippled it at once, its nose collapsing in on its cab, and I curled my fingers into a fist. Through the hysteria that followed I then aimed at the females now staring in disbelief and released my hand. As my fingers flexed their bodies flung back into exhibition panes.

Seraph, weep for this ghastly error as I remain the disaster in every heart and so I will wither like the acidic memory I am; demon, pour death’s magic elixir into the nectar of my malfunction as I have failed my quest and can no longer deny I am unfit for humanity. I am an entity without moral compass. Like the air when it is tainted with sin. There are no words to describe the payment a soul makes when succumbed to this disgrace. Am I destined to forever be seduced by magic elixirs?

Now I remember why it had become difficult for me to associate with mankind. Only through alcohol could I muster compassion for them. There resided only a glimpse of hope, but once the fantasy wears away I am a threat. My malice boils to the surface and I am under no contract to spare even the most innocent less another drop wets my tongue, but even then it is merely a matter of time.