| they held open the door and the dry wind blew in,his bug eyes now sullen to the point of dissapearing into sockets,everything looked brown, the air looked brown,he pissed down his legs to keep warm,this was a hotel wasn't it? how come this was deserted when these shells of man walk past being eaten by the atmosphere like a massive overdose of some never talked aboutopiate? he no longer felt sick,something had cleared in his throat - thislooked like a bad western film set from the fifties except this was real only now it wasnt like that at all, he was in his mothers house and around thehouse sprung fields and fields of fully grown sunflowers the sky a reddish purple but rain whipping down like a torrent moving the sunflowers around in great swathes,and beating down on the glasshouse roof of the conservatory in which he now sat,rocking forward and back in an overpadded wicker chair,mothers food was always good and he could smell it and anticipate what ever this"favourite" meal was going to be.the feeling of adrenalin coursed through his veins and he vomited the diet of pills hed been consuming(seemingly,his whole life)along with half a tin of sweetcorn and the lining of his stomach,as this happened the smell of his mothers cooking dissapared,ripped itself from his nose,clensed with antiseptic, the comfort of those wallsnow replaced by sterile white and strip lights, he looked up from his bed tothetubes running in and out of every hole and down accross the hospital car park to the grain silos, the ploughed and flooded fields,the lorries drivingthrough and only ever seeming to stop for fuel.laying back into bed the pillow half enveloping his head he lay motionless the paralysing thoughtdrowning him forcing into every hole. |