My Own Path to Choose

I see my bones protrude through paling filmy flesh as vacant days start to unravel, losing thirty pounds in six weeks brought on by lack of will and lack of aspiration. I’ve become an empty shell, an unfilled vessel atrophying under neon signs and dim barroom lights, the only light I get. Barely recognizing the cheerless face I pass in mirrors hoping to hell that I’m not him, but he’s always looking back confused, like he knew me once like… maybe I was an old high school friend or a schoolyard bully who teased him for a sensitivity that he knew vanished before its time.

I’m a radio with no receiver, inaudible rambling broadcasted to non believers. I shout sporadic static, interjection of inane transmissions echoing pathetic and feeble falling upon the deafest of ears into empty streets baron and vacant like uncharted seas. I’m left feeling frail and impassive, a speechless voice producing mute responses.

We used to ride faces to the wind, high on life, whisky, and what was to come on our boatless booze cruise captained by a strong sturdy man I used to know. Years pass and self inflicted severed ties left no captain in control of this dispatch to nowhere. An abandon ship call went out long ago calling all who were still connected to life, all who couldn’t go down with a sinking ship. “Save yourself,” they said to the drunken frail captain who they all knew was beyond saving. Passengers, friends and lovers bailed into waiting lifeboats avoiding the impending, unraveling vessel. Now this gaunt weary man slumps in an old brown leather captain’s chair, ribs showing through unwashed t-shirt staring blankly at gauges, levers and wheels without reaction or the anticipation of rescue. Knowing I’m going down alone out as the waves roll over my brittle shaking my bones to the core fully expecting shoulder blades to pop through skeletal shaped casing.

Now left stranded, marooned on this manmade concrete island of fear and self loathing, all is gone and the course I left uncharted found its inevitable X. X marks the spot I never wanted to be but knew where it would end if I stayed the course. Stumbling clumsily alone on bleak, barren and eerily familiar paths that had always been somewhere floating above me between those neon lights and concrete trails leading to Pabst signs and banners touting cheap piss lager. Now seemingly invisible, an undead apparition emaciated and faceless I can’t be seen or heard. I charted my course long ago but could never break away from the effortless. I stayed the easy course landing on hard times leaving me alone, broken and bitter. Now this is my existence, unwanted but unsurprising.