That's The Black Sludge Part Of You Day!

The stains on your sheets are growing in diameter and a large portion of the floral pattern has been blacked out completely in a dense opaque cloud of rorschach blots. The one that used to look like your uncle's face in your childhood bedroom doorway now just looks like a unicorn.

You've smelled them. There's no odor. But when you inhale you do feel like you just repeated one of the worst mistakes of judgement you've ever made in your entire life.

You touch the spots in the morning when they're still damp and warm, but when you pull your fingers away they're bone dry and as cold as the last time you kissed them to relay a buss to the lid of a coffin.

"Get to the point," you're saying. "Am I dying or not?"

You are dying, but that's beside the point. And we haven't even broached the subject of the whispers you mistake for half-sleep dreams.

"But it is a half-dream," you're saying. "Whenever I lay my head on the pillow and flail my way between sleeping and waking I get one of those jolt-awake dreams where a recently raped boy screams at me for washing too cursorily. What does that have to do with the black spots? And what are those black spots?"

That's the black sludge part of you. It's everything about you that's gone rotten, the cancer of stiffed ambition blazing through your tissue like wild horses from a burning stable. It's a black froth of anxiety that began to bubble up to your skin when you turned 28. You didn't really think so many instances of failure would just line up as memories fixed in place and time did you? Everyone you've hurt and everything good that you've cast away has simmered into a dark gloppy muck that seeps out of you at night and waits for you to wake up in the morning and cuddle. Wash your sheets before someone's ejaculate drips into one of those stains. You're not allowed to smoke in your apartment and when ejaculate mixes with the black sludge part of you, a cloud of smoke puffs up into the air and it smells a lot like a lit cigarette but the cloud has a nose and a mouth and eyes without eyelashes.

Happy That's The Black Sludge Part Of You Day!