I contemplate selling this elderly room. I no longer care for it. Full of old furniture, rusted metals and torn books. The carpets stuck as a bluish grey and is covered in decaying furs. The family paintings have fallen off their hooks, (but I never liked them anyway). My bed is on three legs, I’ve gotten too big for the shower and the walls aren’t sound proofed. The balcony is full of boxes. The floorboards are no longer in the floor. The red paint is creeping off the walls, the ceiling feels like its falling and the windows can barely cough out any air. My ‘office’ is full of information that I can’t take in. It all seems rather staccato and motionless. Perhaps I can no longer live in the shadow of what I have taken or that which has been given to me.
Still I can’t touch this place. Poco’s plastic bowl is still in the corner. There’s a foul stench from his last meal. His collar sits nearby. That was when I was another age and I was another being.
This whole situation with Ellis and Martin has me around the bend. I don’t really know where to rotate. Ellis hasn’t helped with anything so far. Martin was probably Ellis’ ploy! It was a trick I say! Ellis has just been an aggravator. All he does when I meet him is put pins in balls of elasticized butter and trim the peels off apples in my face. He needs to be beaten.
This writer’s block is getting worse! I can’t even come up with another adjective for worse. I hope I haven’t kidded you on this. I’m not even a writer. Are you happy Ellis? This was all you! I abhor YOU!
But it’s kind of funny actually.
But I remember. This isn’t my place it was someone else’s. The damned storage below remains in my care, I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone else. It is mine and only mine now.
But today I leave this room. I’m going to the pier and I shall stay on the boat for a time.
