LAUNDRY MAT
There is nothing like the laundry mat at 2:30 a.m. Two grocery stores surrounded this place as well as some other shops, very brightly lit up, but empty. Like there had been a nuclear explosion, and everybody disappeared off the face of the planet. Instead of loosing my mind, or scrounging for food, or searching for a soul survivor, I decided to do my laundry instead. >>>

3:00 a.m.
Downtown, sitting on the curb, Marlboro red hanging from my bottom lip, Jack Daniels in a brown paper sack gripped in my left hand. The town is dead except for the small, intoxicated crowd, outside this nightclub across the street. A fat man with a backwards ball cap, is one of those "angry drunk" types, starting shit with some shady figures off in the shadows. >>>

2:15 a.m.
It was myself and this 40 year old and attractive woman in this empty all-night diner, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. Make up and tears ran down her face. Wild blonde, slightly gray hair. Disturbing green eyes, expressing years and years of torture and tough love. Black leather jacket, tight blue jeans, she was drunk, and I was... crazy. >>>

1:02 a.m.
I hate insects, spiders, and rodents. Now I am bugged out, and I do not want to take a shower, and I definitely cannot sleep. I return to bed, and every time I close my eyes I imagine thousands of them, ambushing me and crawling all over me.>>>

8:23 p.m.
I hope I do not piss my landlady off when I splatter about one million thoughts and one million poems all over her freshly shampooed carpets. I put one bullet into the chamber and spin it. Nothing like a game of Russian Roulette to end this shit. I place the pistol to my head and pull the trigger. "Click." Nothing. >>>

9:00 p.m.
I was naked on my couch. Smoking, drinking none other but Old No.7, sweating, heart skipping and repeating. The lights were depressingly dim. She came out of the bedroom, naked as well and rubbing her eyes. Brunette, wild, long tanned body, perfectly perky breasts, hateful, youthful, beautiful, confused face. I do not know her name. But on this night I called her Rachel.>>>

11:04 p.m.
Her name was Lisa. 21 years old, bi-polar and proud to announce it. She had attempted suicide twice. She took a bunch of pills and tried to slash her wrists. She was very proud of her scars. She spent 6 months in a mental hospital. Very insecure about herself, and constantly seeks attention. Just like me, only I go about it with style and class.>>>