36.

I bathe in the cool salt water of my addiction. I let it wash over me and I fully slip into a gleeful sense of debauchery. If my new landlord/best friend knew this was who I was, I don't think he would have rented out to me. Filthy little secrets are the only thing that let us delude others into trusting us. Our society thrives and runs on lies. A fast burning fuel. If anybody really knew what anyone else was really like, they'd want nothing to do with them. Let alone love them. The horrible truth of our own sickening depravity would drive us all away from one another. Our disgust would forge new personal countries, a world of hermits so far removed from one another we would all be driven to extinction. Secrets are the key to our existence. Secrets make the world go round. I have no idea how much time has passed. The lack of windows in the basement could prove detrimental to any sense of time I might have. I writhe with pangs of joy and every joint aches with ecstasy. My fingers spark and crackle with the electric current of the future. I eat dirt and shit rainbows. I breathe ammonia while exhaling perry winkle dew drops. I'm a Glade plug in on drugs. These things really do taste better when you're in a good mood. It's like I licked an exotic hallucinogenic mood ring. With no windows I'm left to soak in artificial light. I shake and shake and shake and hear shouting from upstairs. Maybe Grandpa told his grand kids about their new housemate. There's stomping and shouting and raspy insincere threats. I giggle uncontrollably. I start to feel sleepy and I feel my eyelids start to slide shut like automatic garage doors. Tck, tck, tck, tck, tck. They slowly roll down their tracks. I punch myself in the nose like one might punch the "Snooze" button on their alarm clock. This is no time for sleep. It's time for progress. I jump up from the stairs and down from the stars and let the dark laughter engulf me. I prance and throw my arms wildly about. The giant fleshy blades of my windmill heart. They turn and swing gallantly, fueling my endless rampage. The cold concrete walls reach out to me. Every blemish, every dot juts out, the signal of a giant game of connect the dots. I run about on all fours now, kicking up dust and insect shit. I let loose my distinct howl once more, and bark at my hanging florescent moon. The hunt is on.