(Jeremiad) The War called Peace

Her mouth was a swamp filled with abominable languages, spewing the blasphemous mutterings of Jezebel. My head throbbed. Her incessant scurrying pounded into my broken head like a sledgehammer.

In the distant labyrinth of my crumbling mind; down in the liquidy shadows, in the darkest, farthest corner, I can hear ever so softly the menacing song from a jack in the box, the tune was broken, twisted and warped as it unwound in its rickety, eeriness. The jingle jangled and played without mercy, getting louder with each cycle of the rusted unwinding crank. I could scratch and rip at hair and bone, claw through crimson and pink jelly; with flailing fingers to dig out the ditty that stains a haunting echo, on the walls of my twirling mind. Though I know it would be in vain, because reason is a winged beast, and I’ve become a stranger to her golden arms. This taunting symphony is only, cruelly just a mirage, I must know this. I must! The ripping pain was almost too much to bear. The deed must be done. I see Heaven full of the War called Peace. Suddenly less insane and more in control of my wondering wits, I focused on the real world; that circus of the mad, which whirl, pulling me down into the undertow of its lashing.

A phone in the musky distance down the hall screamed off its cradle. A child was screeching like a wounded banshee somewhere in the confines of this bloody roach hotel. The hollow bellowing of the fat, greasy spic across the hall raping my last nerve. Pounding! Everything was screaming too loud, it was making me dizzy. I stuffed it all in the box inside my head, where I put the things, in between. And then, there was a rather small, grey, ungainly moth flickering inches from my face, vainly trying to penetrate the windowpane, with its pounding! The squeaky, churning of the wheel of insanity, rolling faster and faster down the cliff of reason. It tumbled out of focus into a light speed, a crescendo with the viciousness of a jackhammer pounding the walls of my mind!

I’m the captain of this ship, I demanded within my head, then just before I took the helm in one quick jerk. I pulled my thick index finger eye level, and looked at it, cocked my head like a confused dog, and quick as flies, had smeared the filthy silk across the glass.

I turned and smiled, with lies as thick and sweet as honey, I said, "No. Wait a minute. I did not mean that."

She stopped her chaotic fidgeting. She had one of her red high heel shoes on, the strap hung lifeless to the floor, the other she clutched to her boyish breast. Her black polyester dress was barely hanging by a moment to her narrow, shapeless body, one of its straps hung off her shoulder blade indifferent to its purpose the other hung listless below her right breast, showing most of the undeveloped swell, a safety pin dangled from the end of the strap.

Her dark raven down, once feathered back, was a lunatic’s carnival, going everywhere but attractive. Her skin was so pale it looked like white alabaster, cold, dead, and smooth as marble. Her finger nails were bitten to the quick. Her toe nails were painted fire engine red, looking like the art work of some half-witted, half-blind senile child. She wore no make-up save for the traces of electric blue moon eye shadow, rubbed almost completely away by now. A pixies nose peppered with sun kisses smartly above her thin, little mouth.