Madness is a drug. A man lost in the world takes a long drag from the sloppily rolled blunt and exhales toward the midnight sky, the smoke evaporating as if it were a vanquished spirit. Who knows his name? What is his purpose on this earth? Maybe he wasn’t meant to be alive. Last night he had a dream that death claimed him. It wasn’t even a gory death, it was a kiss that promised an eternal calm. While most men, even brave warriors that venture into the unknown, would fear the beautiful angel with wings as dark as spilled ink, this man embraced her. This man made love to her and she ended his life in a single second. But then his eyes opened.
Disappointment is a murderer. He sat up from the lonely bench, observed as a hundred different eyes judged him composure. Hundred different souls, so consumed with their daily routine. A hundred different humans, fading away into the darkness, while streetlights paved their path. The man was fucking high, and all he could think of was the woman in his dreams.
Reality is a prison. What kind of life was worth living if dreams seemed as if it offered more freedom? The road suddenly felt more safe. The revving of engines and the roar of the automobiles were music to his ears. He took a final drag as he dropped the blunt on the asphalt, decimating the remains with his shoe. Safety was somewhere out there, he told himself, as he stepped off the sidewalk and a single horn was the final sound. The sound that set him free. An angel greeted him shortly after, and bound him to his fate. A final kiss and madness became nothing more than a distant memory. A single smile in the midst of this darkness. A sanctuary after life.
His blood stained the urban landscape, and strangers pretended to care. They crowded around the scene of the accident, masquerading the fact that they give a shit, when they really don’t. After an hour, everyone has forgotten about the man. But his soul lives on.
Madness is a drug. Disappointment is a murderer. Reality is a prison. Death was his savior.