First distinct memory burned into my mind.. 3 years old. Mother looking nervously, just had to fill the cool water in the spray bottle. Just to press my father's clothes. No problem. She turned her back and I reached out for the most dangerous thing in the room. Burning hot iron. Of course, always, ever, to this day. I will reach out for the most dangerous thing.
Nothing hurt like mom. Nothing. Since then the broken nose, ribs, the piece of the brain pulled out of my head, the thunder and crack of scar tissues adorn my head. Oh, every time I think of it my ears ring like a tidal wave. Even now. Ha, the broken nose, the screaming. Such child's play. I find myself screaming, fleeing, running in terror as the police pull the bag over my head.
"FUCK FUCK" as I inhale my own vomit.
So much brain damage. I can't look down on anyone down to the card board beggar. Yea, I'll slip resumes into the narrow cracks of the windows they'd slip fivers through. But I'll never be rid of the headaches I get when I even think of the arrogant trees that waved me goodbye as I forgot the difference between being dead and waking up in hell.
It was an empirical test, of that I was conscious. Was I in hell on earth, or was I in hell eternal? It didn't matter, but I wanted to know.
So the thunder stuck me, as the alarmed passengers passed me by at 70k/h inches away. And my false deception left me alive. I rose screaming, certain that I was in hell. As the hood went over me, FUCK YOU, they pulled the bag over my head and didn't notice me vomiting into my own lungs as I lay upon the handcuffs and stopped screaming.
