I’m wasted, I still taste it.

The forecast, a car crash. It’s looking like another breakdown, rebound.

I had a night terror last night. It was bad.  Worst I’ve had in a long time.  It’s still rocking me all day today.  It’s been over 15 hours later, and I still can’t get it out of my head. Every time I close my eyes I can see bits and flashes. I can smell the smells, and hear the screams.  It won’t stop.  I’m sure there’s some kind of psycho babble to explain it.  Maybe I’m just going crazy-er.  Maybe I’m just trying to explain something to myself, to re-blame myself for things that’ve happened in the past, or explain something to happen in the future.  I’m a horrible person.

And I can’t deny your eyes, you know I try to read between the lines. I saw a warning sign, and then you threw me up against the wall.

There isn’t really any way to push the things out of my head when they get there. I’ve tried, but they tend to dig deeper.  I just wish I could make it stop. Claw out my eyes. Claw out my brains.  I woke up with a scream last night. Yowl?  Didn’t know where I was. Curled up in the corner, hyperventilating, couldn’t figure things out.  It was fucking terrifying.  I’m a horrible person.

I’m wasted, I still taste it.  Yeah it’s so hard to let go.  So breathe in now, and breathe it out.

It was all my fault.  But then again, when do I ever think it isn’t?  We were running.  It was run or die. The door was there. All we had to do was go through.  I closed the door. I had to.  I thought he’d made it through. I thought they’d all make it through. But they didn’t and I had to shut the door. And then the screaming started.  The gun shots. The choking. The gurgling sound of drowning in their own blood. I can smell the blood. It’s sickeningly sweet, ya know?  It has a metallic almost sugary smell. To me, anyway.  I can see the blood pooling under the door. The door that I had closed. That I had closed and locked everyone out. The few people who’d made it through looked at me in horror. I’D made the decision to close the door. The DOOR. It was my responsibility. They trusted me. I decided to let them all die. The blood was a bright red. It hadn’t even had a chance to darken yet. I can smell it.  The screams are few and far between after only a matter of seconds.  So much gone and so much sacrificed. But yet, I lived for what? For who?  I lost the only thing that mattered. I don’t know who it was, but he was the only thing that mattered to me. I thought he’d been through the door. And when I heard his yell before it was drowned out by the gunfire, I knew I was wrong.  I just stared at the door. Smelling the blood. Hearing the screams. Seeing the pool of death… All my fault. I condemned everyone to die. I’m a horrible person.

This could be my last goodbye. You cross your heart, I hope to die.

I can’t stop seeing it. It’s everywhere. The looks of horror, the sounds, the smells. I eventually fell back asleep and it wasn’t so bad.  But now that I’m awake it’s just as though I’m still asleep. It’s on replay.  Or maybe it just hasn’t stopped. Is it looping? Or is it just some kind of punishment?  Whose?  Mine? Someone else’s?  I’m a horrible person.

When you were going in alone, and all your different faces, and all your different ways are making everything a mess. 

I just can’t let things go, can I? I just can’t seem to get things out of my head. I can’t just walk away from the things that I want to, or need to.  Everything is just fucked up in there that it needs beaten out with a baseball bat.  I’m a horrible person.


2 thoughts on “I’m wasted, I still taste it.

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