Soul Sucking Jerk

My hands were red and raw, my arms scratched and marked. My head buzzed as I walked, and my voice broke as I talked. It had been a long day, but at the same time, just another day.

For there are no short days as a slave.

The day begun as any other day would. Sluggishly rolling out of bed to the floor, and then lying on the floor till a range of daily goals funnelled their way into my mind. It’s funny, but when you lie in bed, you only experience dreams, yet on the floor, the cold stark floor, I could feel at least something. It sets you off, like nothing else can. And today my aim was to function, to free myself as the slave I am.

I trimmed my beard and combed my hair, to bring about a refreshing new look, for to feel fresh is to be fresh. I marched out the door and made my way into the city centre. It was a beautiful day, and I knew things would be different. I tucked my traditional daily routine in the back of mind, for that routine was the thing that pinned me down. I’d eat whenever, and go wherever. It didn’t matter to me. It didn’t matter to me. It didn’t matter to me. My mantra to break free.

But of course, it did matter to me, for a slave inside can’t get outside.

I hadn’t even made it to town when my insides started to squirm, to fight against my escape of routine and regulations. I knew my insides wanted me to go to my usual haunts, experience my usual coasts, and do it all to the ticking timer that rules all. There was a demon rooted inside of me, commanding my every move and I didn’t want to lose to it anymore. So I attacked it by punching a brick wall. I hit the wall while wailing. I hoped there would be no one passing by, but I’m sure there was, and I kept hitting till the demon dragged me to the floor. The demon inside pushed against my throat as I tried to take a deep breath, to regain some control. But as I led on the floor, I knew he was mine.

I went to the usual spots, and I got home at the usual time. The cold floor only sparked dreams I realised, just different to the ones I sleep with in bed.

I sat on the windowsill watching the outside world go by. It wasn’t much to go by, for everyone was away doing whatever it is they were doing. I knew of structure, the importance, the safety, but I didn’t know of the freedom that comes when people give off steam. I wished I could run outside and lie in the grass, but this was not on the schedule, for I had to read and write. One chapter, forty lines, for without them I’d feel the demon kick my shins and bite my eyes.

But I knew this was no good, so I threw the glasses in the kitchen to the floor and rolled in the glass, scratching my arms as I pierced the demon. But the demon was sneaky and would recoil into the deepest depths of my mind, so as I lay there all I could feel was glass embedded in my skin, and no feeling of accomplishment for what I did. Was this worth it?

Was I worth it?

And so I called a Crisis Team who knew a little of exorcism of the dark souls, who rule all. But on the line I couldn’t talk, for on the phone I could only tremble as the demon beat against my brain. He told me no one would care, and I’d only be inconveniencing the person on the other end. That person probably wanted to eat their lunch while browsing the internet, rather than dealing with a troublesome hopeless customer. He preferred to help the helpless women anyway. This is what the demon told me.

And so I went back to my bed, and slept it off. Just another ordinary day as a slave.

And the next day I didn’t even think to rebel, for the demon always caught me.


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