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Nov. 1998 – This city use to have a magick about it. She carried her beauty encased in a heavy humid nights and cool shaded days. She pranced around for me, hoping I would be like her. I could never live up to her expectations. I followed and now I’m old, beaten down on the edge of life and nothing. War wounds from countless fist fights clothe my tattooed flesh.

My magick has fallen into prayer, from lack of strength. I’ve almost drown in the blackness, with just a backpack and a few new things. Everything is lost, nothing was found. But, these broken promises that I have been waiting to end, keep coming out of the maw of man. 

I am running for my life, with the demons on heel. They force me to look over my shoulder, lost in a constant panic and anxiety. They jump from person to person, testing if I’m clever enough to detect them. My mind is frayed and week. Stupid drunks are everywhere, refusing to stay on their side of the line. Another fight could break out in this hollow, empty night.

I don’t even care anymore, I am so tired. Long ago I was full of power and now I am weak from this war. Is humanity even worth it? I wish the war would end for me and I could put down my weapons and go home. I feel the failure, I feel the loss. I am not a hero. I am the insane drooling  in a rubber room. It was all a lie, the path is impossible.

The asylum walls are quiet and my fears are bouncing back into my ears. There is nothing left for me in this place. The mother left me alone, subject to the hands and desires of the wicked. The stupid vicious creatures have chewed my flesh, stolen my possessions, and raped my soul. I lost my biggest fight against 232. I failed  God, in this pit of hell.

The horrors are about to stop and the screams and the guns will fall silent. As I wake into the endless gray, I look forward to a quiet uneventful retirement. Perhaps there will be comfort there and perhaps I will find happiness, in the never ending in between.

Who knows, the future is wide open and my eyes are wet from the past. My hopes for tomorrow make me do nothing for today. All those voices chanting, hidden in the night, will become mute. The demons and angels will leave me at once. Or so I pretend.   

2701

I am a stranger wandering your world, looking for a way home.

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