Never fight tears

If you’re close to crying, do so: tears release chemicals, including natural painkillers.

If you don’t feel like crying, don’t go here. You really have to be tortured by your own thoughts to go that way, to hit loved ones with the force of a bomb that won’t kill but put them in Hell all the same.

A few of those left behind, shell-shocked and numb, dare to imagine the suffering that drove the beloved dead to finally act.

All of the the dead look like anybody you might meet. They are.

After shutting down the cursed computer I was ready for sleep. My eyes were sticky red bulbs.

Giant white dogs the size of small bulls chase me around a massive supernetwork of highways spread across a steroidal Los Angeles.

I kill one of the dogs, slashing its muscular belly open. It sprays barrels of blood as it corkscrews downward between still more freeways, stacked in infinite levels. Some fat fucking son of a bitch like a White sumo wrestler appears, yelling for the authorities. He wants to kill me to avenge the dogs or himself. I don’t know if it was his dog but more dogs lurk out there, seeking revenge.

Wherever I try to hide, children recognize me, laughing and asking innocent questions about the dogs. I answer their questions, angrily amazed I’m stupid enough to be stalled.

I merge onto a 15-lane freeway, making my escape on a scooter as worthless as the Faggio from GTA. It won’t go faster than 35 as white dogs thunder after me down the busy freeways.

I blink, teleported to another safe house, a small apartment…

I woke up before I had to wake up, an hour to go. I can’t figure out how an hour of sleep can be made to feel like a steak-eating contest.

A few hours left before work. The real nightmares always begin with sunlight.

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One Response to “Never fight tears”

  1. Digital Howie Says:

    Your last line says it all, man. I hate waking up to the fucking alarm, knowing another day of my existence will be wasted by going to a shitty, worthless, stupid office clerk job where people there are crazier than I am and don’t even know it. To them, I’m the weirdo. Well, after 20 years of this shit work, THEY are the weirdos, some still working even after putting in 35, 45 years on the job. God, I think, what fucking LOSERS. I am amongst the losers and I am a loser and I hate it but, what the hell, this is my place in the world and nothing is ever gonna change it.

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