secret motel

Still rolling with my sobriety binge. But the cravings, in the last few days, have been growling louder. These seem to coincide with some of the Earthlings irritating the fuck out of me. You people should just be glad I don't have my own nukes. I would use them. Earth, from space, would look like a big mushroom garden.

* * *

Wake up early and march out to a lone office tower looming over the countryside. All the windows and doors blown out. The only music left in the world. Wind carries the final recordings of a world that died a long time ago. Climb the stairs, up and around, up and around. Until the rooftop and the full rush of wind. The miles of empty countryside. Listening for something in the low clouds. Waiting for something. A flicker. This grey light of Heaven.

* * *

I enjoy peaceful strolls across the parking lots of abandoned strip malls. Signage still adorns the empty storefronts. This one was a realtor's office, this next one a funeral parlor. That one over there sold submarine sandwiches. That place on the corner priced everything for a dollar or less. People used to say the frequent sirens meant the neighborhood was in decline. Now those people and the sirens are gone.