For two days we stayed up partying in that cheap, dim lit Inn.
Hip hop vibrating through the T.V speakers.
Cigarette smoke filled the box of a room. Beer cans and liquor bottles trailed across the side tables, and dressers. A couple half lit joints, sitting in dirty ashtrays. The door swinging back and forth, as friends came and went.
With each knock I’d imagine uniformed officers, the unrelenting beeping of their handsets and my spine would stiffen. Anxiety pulsed through my body, quickening my breath. Reach over to pour another drink. Lean back against the head board of the dingy motel bed, and take a deep breath. Roll another joint, something to cut the restless paranoia. Wired tight with fear, the despair that covered it, masked as contempt.
I knew I was alone. I’d always been alone. All too often, grasping at people like a terrified child. And even though I never formally begged them to stay, it was obvious that’s how I felt. No matter how hard I tried to keep them, they would always wonder off to a safer place. I scared people. I’d always had. I was too fucked up, and I knew it. They knew it, every time they looked at me, it was written all over their face. This pathetic empathy poured out from their eyes, and I hated it. I hated the way they couldn’t linger too long, but would look away. Fidgeting with their hands, and lightening the subject. The truth was, that they weren’t going to last. No one lasted, not with me. I was a plague. I brought nothing with me, but disease and I knew that.
So with each police raid fairy tale, I had the feeling, a stirring within, that this was all going to come to a disastrous end. A looming guttural truth crept up behind us like a night watch stalker. A cold breathe lifting the hairs on the back of my neck. Turning around to find nothing, but the unrelenting emptiness.
A lingering threat of an unwelcome whisper.
I’m coming for you Angie. I’m coming for all of you.
Is that You God? Or is it….him.