the cool night time air tastes like wet pennies and sulfur as i lurch along the spine of the city looking for some libations to take my mind off the fact that my body is rotting. the glowing neon sign above a convenience store entrance shines at me as an elemental of pure light beckoning me towards it. i step inside and grab a bottle of scotch, paying for it with a handful of crumbled bills that had been stuffed in my back pocket. i emerge back outside like a new born babe seeing the world for the first time, whimsical and full of possibility.

groping haphazardly through the dark i manage to make my way to the usual spot, the top floor of a seldom used parking deck. from there i can see the entire corpse of the city and all the little ticks of light shining out of her acupuncture  holes. its beautiful and it makes me want to vomit. i take the lid off the bottle and kiss the scotch and immediately everything starts to make more sense. tendrils of warmth slither through my neck and legs and i feel like i’m being cradled in the arms of some obese pagan fertility goddess. she stares at me lovingly as she spits alcohol into my mouth in the form of a mother bird feeding its young.

i drink for some time and with each swig from the bottle the rot inside me feels a little bit less pervasive. i know its still there, i know i’m not actually doing anything to combat it, but just the perception alone that something is being done is enough to give me a sense of fragile contentedness. i stumble around in circles dancing weakly as music plays in my head. i pretend i’m nineteen again and i’m at a party. a beautiful young woman saunters over to me and ushers me into the bathroom. she takes my cock out of my pants and slides it into her mouth. everything feels right. this is where i’m supposed to be.

i spray semen over the cold concrete ground of the parking deck, lost in fantasy. i collapse and start laughing, my pants still down around my ankles. i grab the bottle for another sip, spilling it all over my face in the process. for what feels like a small eternity i simply lay there. my mind continues to wander. i think of my grandfather. i think of his curly white beard and bald head. i think of when he took me hunting as a child. i remember how i pleaded with him not to shoot that deer, tears welling in my eyes. i remember how he slapped me and told me to quit acting like a girl before he pulled the trigger and i watched that creature collapse in on itself.

finally i stand up, hoisting my pants and refastening my belt. the bottle is nearly empty now. i stare at the one finger of scotch remaining. i want to make it count. i walk over to the edge of the building, staring down at the street below. young couples leaving the bars scuttle along the veins of asphalt below like lice on the head of a dirty child. i open my mouth and let saliva drip from it down upon them. they don’t seem to notice. the wind picks up and for a second i nearly lose my balance. a voice inside of me tells me to let the wind take me, to let it pick me up and carry me away. away from this cadaverous city and the rot infesting my organs. it would carry me into the sky, higher and higher, until i’m looking down at the earth in its entirety.

i fly higher still until i’m pulled into the orbit of the sun. it drags me closer to it like a lover inviting me to bed. i feel its warmth growing ever more intense. soon all i can see is the glowing red inferno of its skin and my body is engulfed in burning embers as it consumes me whole. this seems like the perfect fate. but i don’t let the wind take me. i steady myself and drink deep the final bit of scotch. it doesn’t taste like anything at all. i glance down at the street below one last time before stepping away from the edge. with every bit of strength i can muster i slam the empty bottle down on the ground in front of me and it shatters into a thousand different pieces. each one holds the reflections of the stars above it, as if it contained a galaxy within itself. i begin to weep. i’m not entirely sure why. it begins as a quiet sob but soon tears are streaming down my face. i tug at my greasy hair until it hurts and i’m pulling small clumps of it out. eventually my tears subside and i gather myself.

i walk back down to street level like a dull ghost making its nightly rounds. for a while i wander aimlessly. the people i pass look at me with disgust. i don’t blame them. after all, i am disgusting. its only a natural response. i feel like they can see the rot in me. its so advanced now that its seeping out of my skin. spewing out of every orifice. i could try to contain it in some way, make myself more presentable to the strangers i slink past, but i dont. i like that they think i’m disgusting. i want to be disgusting in front of everyone.  

finally my wandering leads back to the convenience store as if it were predestined, the light of its sign as enticing as ever. once inside i buy a second bottle of scotch with the one remaining bill that i have. the clerk refuses to make eye contact with me. with the bottle gripped tightly in my hand as if letting go of it would kill me, i begin my journey back to the parking deck, to do it all over again. the night is just getting started.