Dirty Sobriety

“this is a time of destruction.”

“this is a time of destruction.”

“this is a time of… destruction.”

“this is a time of……destruction.”

He said four times as he staggered in the hallway, going through the washing room.

Millions of thoughts, aching his scattered brain, he was staggering in illusion.

As he opened the door, he felt dizzy, almost fainted; but eventually managed to keep a straight position.

He turned the hot valve and let the steam take over the whole room. The stench was everywhere. It was irritating. He could sense it and almost taste it all around. In his mouth, on his lips. He spat.

He spat so harshly, his tongue almost fell out; the taste, yet remained.

He was too afraid, too full of hatred and despise to look into the mirror, he was wishing for the mirror to be fogged up sooner so that he couldn’t see through it anymore.

The steam was making the room warmer now, although he was freezing cold inside, he tapped his foot on the water; now collected by quarter of an inch. It felt purifying.

Little by little, hot water splattered and splashed all over his body, touching every inch of his insanitary skin.

He felt filthy, full of guilt and despise; pure pure despise and hatred brimming.

He rubbed and scuffed and tried to get rid of what he had done; of all the filth and dirt spreading all through his soul.

This was no innocence; he was not an angel anymore. He was but a morbid demon.

He thought of all the lies and burst into tears. He shouted with all his might.

He was alone.

The stench had faded a little but he could still sense it. Easily. Without even trying.

The dirt had vanished apparently; but only temporarily. No doubt.

And filth was within him; resentment and hatred and lust.

This had been the greatest sin he had done so far and he was scared to do even more.

The greatest sin that shall die with him cause it’s just too painful to live with.

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