lunes, 26 de noviembre de 2007

Last Hope Motel: Dead End.

Right now I'm drunk. It's 4 a.m. and I'm driving nowhere. The night's cool and quiet; I'm not. I go as fast as I can wishing maybe a rabbit or the jackal chasing it will get caught in the headlights making my reflexes spring into action, making me turn the steering wheel violently in the hopes that the little animal won't be just another innocent victim, like myself... the scared little creep looking back at me, standing in the middle of the highway frozen in fear; then my reaction and then this car bouncing out of control until it crashes against a cactus tree. Away from everything there'd be no help... it'll be a lonely, painful and slow death. I can see it a thousand times in my mind... but, am I not already dying?

This thing I'm feeling... at first I thought it was rage... now I know it's not rage, is frustration... in the end, just sadness... plain and simple, dark and blue sadness; just like this desert.

Looking into the rearview mirror I can see how everything´s changed, despite we promised each other it never would. Things doesn't work all the time; I stopped caring some time ago. She was my life, now there's nothing left.

What's that? Are those neon lights? I fear I'm coming closer at an increasing speed. I don't recognize the distance between things anymore, and I don't really care: the bottle of gin at my side has taken care of it. Suddenly it's too late when I realize I'm driving my car directly against a building, a motel of sorts. I don't bother to close my eyes and wait for the collision. If this is the end, it'd make a good death. I'm almost there where I finally die nailed to a wall, crushed inside my car's cabin. I can't wait for the impact. I resist once again the urge to close my eyes, the thrill exciting the liquor in my blood, my heart pumping faster and faster... but then reality loses its grip on me as I break through the motel as if it were an illusion, its walls made of the same fabrics dreams are made of. Instead of crashing against it I found out the place rests at the end of a cliff which sends me flying away into the darkness of whatever lies beyond the end of the world.

viernes, 9 de noviembre de 2007

Last Hope Motel: The Ferryman.

Ever since she died I have longed to linger. The cancer devoured her slowly and sorely consuming us both until there was neither flesh nor blood to hold on to.
I survived to her only for our children; to see them grow strong and happy. We worked it out as a family led by her loving memory. We grew closer to each other, giving comfort to ourselves.

We had to somehow fill the empty space left by her death.

For quite a while it was OK. Our children needed me and I was always there for them. But now that has changed, they have grown strong and happy, and just like that they have left home to pursue their own future; a future where I am too old and lonely to wish to live.

I go back to those years and it feels like they had never happened, just like some kind of dream; a bad dream as it feels now.

I have saved an obolus for Khárôn to take me to the other side of the river´s flow. I have decided I do not want him to take me here in our home. I would like to embark on my journey somewhere else far away from here, away from everything. A place where I have never been before, where I can finally rest as I am, as a forgotten old man.