The World As It Is

Funny, I remember a world where these places sold a variety of food. People complained about inflation, but they never knew where that argument was heading. After that short period of time, everything went downhill. Cars were just about obsolete for us ordinaries; they were hollowed out and stationed in major hubs, or as we used to call them cities. These stationary homes that used to be cars are now used by entire family units at a time to live in and get through the ferocious overly heated nights. Apartments were over the tenant occupancy. People took sanctuary upon the mail areas inside the hallways, or the steps before the first floor. Each part of a singular step became a resting spot. We had to steal for nothing, as nothing mattered much. The things that did matter, such as food and gas, things that you could sell were little in portion anyway. Besides half a grape wasn’t worth much of the risk affiliated with stealing. The air was thick with smog, pollution and other intoxicating clouds of mystery. One matter of fact reigned absolute and we were forced to be content within that societal truth, the truth that we above all else did not matter. Electricity was a thing of the past. We had to concoct new ways to energize a lightbulb, if not then we had to use flames. The world was plunged into perpetual darkness as overpopulation rummaged the globe. We were not the first country to fall. China, and India were. However, we fell the fastest soon after them. 

No one could agree on a viable solution. The number of the dead were building and the bodies would pile up contaminating the deserted lands. It made absolutely no sense. The dead were taken away, and some deceased carcases did not even have that right. If there was no money to be had they left some people to rot in the putrid hell of an odor that came from the simple sin of being poor. If the homeless, that were in a way all of us, really were hungry, then they saw their fellow person, or family member that was already flared out and dead as food. People died knowing that death meant you were weak and a willing sacrifice of sustenance for those you cared about so that they may continue to live. Many parents flock to deaths door, and their final words are usually to their children with instructions on how to gut them post-mortem so the children may have a chance to not starve for another month or so. When did we go from so right to so wrong? I guess we were always wrong and just ignored it. The world was dead, and so were we. Roaches became our family amongst the filth of this diseased world. We had been the tumor and the cancer. Now we begged, and it was too damned late. 

I walked down the street one night, and saw an elevator shaft open on the side of a building. I went in with nothing better to do. Curious, I thought, beginning to ponder about my new whereabouts. When the elevator opened, I stepped into another world on the top floor of this skyscraper. It was a palace among the unsanctioned atrocious gravel and filth that life had rewarded us all. Stepping forward carefully, I had stepped upon not broken wood, nor concrete and brick, but fur. Fur and magical musings. I smelled something beautiful. I went after it. That’s when I saw it. I saw something on the stove. It smelled like meat and a side of eggs. Two things I know that years prior went extinct. I went to the cold box, and took a few grapes. I stuffed my pockets and chuckled as if I was set for life. I wandered towards another room that was a tiled metallic room, and inside I saw buttons. I pressed one and then turned a knob. Water came out. A steady clean stream. I laughed in awe, and reminiscence. I shook my old dirty head in disbelief. Shook it and praised my fate. I touched the water like it was lava, and cupped my hands. 

I was very sad to see the majority go to waste but that is how ancient sinks worked. I splashed the cup of water on my face and rubbed some into my hair that was filled with lice, and a dry scalp. I then drank a second cupped hand of water like a starched dog. It has been over twenty years since I had tasted a clean drop of water. Not horrid dirt water, or city gray water but clean water. I walked out and saw paintings upon the wall. It was of a nude woman, a young woman. She was doing obscene sexual acts. I ignored it but was still aroused. Seeing furniture around me, I wavered and could no longer stand. Falling into a long upright bed that we used to call a couch, I then heard the elevator door open, and so hid. 

Once hidden in the master bedrooms closet, I saw a naked extremely young girl in just a soft robe. She disrobed and began pleasing her master. Having no choice, I stayed there and watched. All of a sudden, a sound bombarded the palace of the rich, and sex filled beauties. It was a doorbell. They both left the room and this was my chance to depart. I managed to go into the elevator, as they went to the bathroom together. That night I slept like a king on my hard broken floor that was my room. I had tasted Godly water and I was happy. It was like the old times. 

It was also my birthday…I think. It was a nice gift from the fates. I was hungry and could not find a rat in the crevices of my room, nor a bug, or something else to eat. I remembered the grapes I had in my pockets. I took one out, and realized in the hole that was in my jacket, they all fell out except for one single green grape. I placed the grape upon my small table, and I sat on my chair. I took out my last bottle of bourbon. One small sip left, there was only three sips when I had found it. I took out my plastic spoon, the fine dining utensil I had, as I was not eating with my hands today but trying to portion. On the tip of the spoon it had the remains of what I think tasted like dried crusted remnants of strawberry jam on it. I would have cleaned it better, if not for the hint of beautiful strawberry scent, which the smell alone would fill me up if I could not find a good plump bug or rat. The smell would hide the scent of death as I consume my grief that often takes the form of a dead pile of slop. My imagination would then run rampant of what this jam used to taste like. If only fruits and vegetation were still an abundant thing. I took the final sip of the bourbon and coughed. Coughed, not from the drink, but from the pollution, dust, gunsmoke from outside and poisonous gas I was inhaling. Then, I took a lick at the spoon…then another. Then one more soft lick and I fell to my knees on the cold broken floor. I had received a few splinters and knew the price of a strawberry jam jar that was probably a small mason jar was being sold for three hundred, or more, dollars. When I was a child, they had so much of this for just a few bucks. Where and when did we go so wrong…? Tears went down my cheeks. I still savored the flavor of jam. 

I looked at the lonely grape, reflectively comparing my life’s outcome to this once in a lifetime opportunity of a simple lonely grape. I had not realized that on this day of my birth as I was about to devour that grape slowly, with unsurmountable pleasure and reverence for the fallen world, that the grapes in which had fallen out of my pocket were being traced to my place by the rich and the whore. They had their private team of people, and did not appreciate thieves. I heard my landlords gunfire erupt downstairs and loud gags and screams of people, which was normal for people whom wanted to sleep above the steps on the first floor. The screams and gunfire were normally sounds of peace, respect, and security for most people. If a child died, it was an honor to hear those gasps of breath, as they got lucky, and removed from this living hell not knowing what awaits for them in the future. They died with hope and forgiveness which is more than anyone grown could say.

A murderer here was just someone who knew their territory. Nothing new. The grape was upon my lips, until the door burst and fell down from being riddled by a hunting gun. A man shot my head and the grape fell from my lips to the floor and rolled. The man did not see the lonely grape, and did not care as he hadn’t even noticed that he stepped on the plump grape, as it burst under his boot, much like my head did just a moment before. I was a thief; and the wealthy, the beautiful and the whore did not like that. Though they stole from all of us: our money, food, innocence, and our life. They themselves were thieves and hypocrites of society. The last words I heard before my eyes closed peacefully and happily forever were, “Take this bum to the factories. We have a new product to push and this is enough meat to sell as beef. The hunt continues! Make sure my private elevator is open longer so more ugly disgusting cretins can get a peak at what being a real person looks like so the hunt can continue.” Ah, this was the rich and whores game. They must be bored in their glass towers. My last thought was not a thought at all, but realizing the sad inconsequential truth, so that’s what they were feeding the poor…the poorer. 

Repackaging us since we can't repackage the world. I remember when things were nice.  As I drifted from this world, my mind was filled with scents of strawberries and I saw calm rivers, trees, a meal, and people helping each other, respecting themselves and others with dignity, hope, and love. A fictional fantasy, and nightmare in our dreams nowadays that keep us awake at night feeling a false sense of hope. Most cannot even come to terms with that feeling, and choose to kill themselves. I got off this world the lucky way. Not only was it my birthday, and my death day, but it was also christmas. It hadn’t snowed in decades, because it was too hot. Everything was burning, even flesh. We chose to get used to it, since we all knew that hell was simply the next, easy to get to, stop away and we are all going to burn in the hereafter anyway. This was the best birthday and holiday I've had in decades. A full meal and some clean water. What more can someone ask for now? 

Funny, I remember a world where you didn’t have to ask. You just take, but we all just took too much, so did the whores and the businesses…this is not that world…I miss what was. 

Happy fuckin’ Birthday…me….