Metathesis - June 1996
Boredom's Trident - exodus
(page 9/9)

Boredom's Trident

So dead, so dying, so completely hopeless. The ceremony, the awe, the power. She can die or live, flip the coin and let it fall.

Miserable day. My last day in this place. I am pleased to see it go. Mercy, they were hugging and kissing and cooing. I hated them all. I kept on wishing, if only they would shut up! If only I could say so and devil take the consequences - but it went on and on. Cackling like a coterie of crows; but I was waiting despite my inherent deficiency of patience. It is a symptom of an instant society, say all the shrinks in my head. Brilliant deduction, but it does nothing for my problem - I still cannot abide waiting.

Oh so boring, all this talking and it means nothing. I wonder, do you understand me? Do you care? I don't. It has gone beyond that, far, far beyond. God, I want to leave this place but it is still time and...Ugh? What's she saying? Smile. Nod. Oh yes, I agree totally. It should not be done, they have gone too far this time, oh yes!

Almost.

Wisdom comes with the rays of a dying sun. Where does all this hate come from? Me? Oh I cannot stand it any longer. Surely this is Hell. If it is not I can see it from here. These words, these conversations are driving me crazy. Surely you can see that? No. You are not even looking at me, are you? You cannot see that my brain is retiring to unconsciousness. I will go cataleptic, I really shall! Windows are made for days like these, freedom from behind a glass bubble - on the inside looking out. You too can be free as that leaf to follow the wind or stay on the tree. Or you can jump from my windowsill, from the height that I present to you, freeing your blood if not your spirit. I would never return here and I can just hear all the dead-in-life: if only I could get out. Escape. If only.

If only - the most desperate, forlorn words in any vocabulary.

The sun sinks. the winds blow, the clock ticks and still the talking. Does it never stop! Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. The world begins anew and everything hangs on that hope that it will be all right in the morning. The sun will cleanse and purge all of yesterday's nightmares. Bring me the darkness of tonight and Boredom's head on a trident.

My eyes see but do not see. My ears hear but I do not compute. I am sinking like the sun, all my thinking days are done. It goes on and on. Tongues have no conception of guilt. They are simply slaves to desperate brains that know should we ever stop talking. then what would we do? I do not know but why does each word seem to bombard and bruise me, why do I feel horribly not here. I close my eyes... and it is over.

More kissing, hugging, cackling. Fussing and flapping the crows take their leave - none too quietly either. I think even the sun was glad to leave them behind. Twilight came and went too and they call me to go with them but my hour has come.

Quiet, blessed quiet. Just the wind fleecing the trees and clouds floating like sheep in a dead sky. I dream of sleep. I sleep to dream, but it has all become silent and still. I lie down and listen and fall into that soft, safe void. When I wake it is darker. The scraping at the window. The calling. It is time to leave this place, time to go. As I pull back the curtain. moonlight illuminates the shadows and hands me Boredom's head on a trident.

"Hello, Monsieur le vampire."

exodus