"Life is essentially a cheat and its conditions
are those of defeat; the redeeming things are not happiness
and pleasure but the deeper satisfactions that come out of struggle."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald
I hear the static, the loud whooshing noise televisions use to make before they completely blocked out pay per view, before the advent of the DVR, a time when you could still make out faint faces and embraces on channels you were too young to be watching. In the hall there is a strange man with a fork and knife in hand he seems to be watching me. I can feel his eyes on me. I move myself towards him, the deep blue shag carpet feels crisp between my toes and I breathe in the hot heavy smell of old spice. "What are you waiting for?" he says in a low tone, the type of tone my father use to use when I picked up dangerous objects. "What do you want?" he says. I turn slowly and head towards him. "I wait for nothing, and want for nothing"
I brush past him and feel the tangs of the fork catch my exposed hip slightly. The hallway becomes longer. I lose my breathe and suddenly I am gracelessly pawing for the walls. Again he approaches "What are you waiting for?" he comes in so close to my ear I dare move my face for fear of being eye to eye. "What do you want?" he repeats. I close my eyes tightly and tell myself "this is a dream, this is not reality,this man is not real" I open them again and I can see his shadow, painted and outstretched on the long white walls of the hallway. Carpet has become hard slick checkerboard. I stand, and I breathe in the now cool air. I touch the painted shadow, fork and knife still in hand, and I say "I was waiting for you,and I was wanting to be devoured"
Entry 10 - Devour