07 December 2005

Folded faces



Superficially existence is pretty but scratch the surface and there is almighty horror. The fleeting face in the morning mirror appears charming and familiar but the analyst has always chosen not to look him in the eye, for if his attention once fixed on the reflection he could no longer ignore it.

A possible future hovers between their gaze and to believe in that future he must understand his past. Turning from the mirror he goes about his daily business yet from that moment onward sees, feels and hears nothing. Seasons heat and chill him but he fails to notice for he is inside his own head…

He runs blindly along dark inner passages, screaming as unspeakable hordes grab and tear, their every touch like ice. He cracks his head on a heavy projection and collapses face first in the blackness. No one is here to help him, he is alone. Despite horrific injury he hauls himself to his feet and his questing fingers find a door handle. The door yields under his pressure and he stumbles into a small candle lit room.

“Anaesthetic would ease the pain in my head,” he thinks and as luck would have it, a bottle and glass swim into view on a low table. In the gloom he breaks the seal and ignoring the glass, lifts the bottle to his lips. He pours whisky into his throat and swallows. Pours and swallows, pours and swallows repeatedly until the bottle is two thirds empty for this is the only way he knows.

Sweet relief calms his aching skull and the fiery grain courses through every vein. “I can do this, I know I can, I really can be normal,” he pleads with himself. Yet a glance at shelves behind him reveals the twinkling contours of twenty more bottles which he must consume in order to be normal. He will have to pace himself, maybe formulate an action plan. Unsteadily he stands and thinks thoughts thickly. A bottle in each pocket, two inside his shirt and of course he could carry one in each hand.

Desperate sadness overwhelms him and he begins to cry. “But I need to take it all with me,” he screams. “I need to take the fucking lot…” But his grip is weak and bottles tumble to the floor. One bounces amazingly before shattering and leaking its lifeblood.

He shoulders the door open violently and dashes into the corridor. Sprinting away from the scene he spews whisky in frightening spurts. He keeps his gaze ahead, ignoring the voices calling from rooms either side. “Fuck them, I thought I cancelled all acquaintances.” Rotting remnants lie in every corner, decaying corpses with wild ugly grins. All life is as foul as death.

"… if I see you tomorrow, don’t make me do that again. Please don’t make me look inside my head.”

His reflection stares impassively back and speaks softly, “tomorrow there will be a different horror.”

“The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paperboy brings more.”
Pink Floyd – Brain Damage

21 comments:

Patry Francis said...

Terrific as a piece of writing, but I'm hoping the man in the story isn't my friend, P.V.

Perfect Virgo said...

Patry - thank you my friend. Yes I've been exploring inside lately and the views have been rather ugly. All events are simply in the mind, brought to life from memories, fears and frustrations.

finnegan said...

Read this and agree with Patry wholeheartedly.

You know where to reach me P.V.

dAAve said...

I'm going to consider this as an early hAAlf nAAked thursdAAy picture.

Jane said...

very powerful virgo. hauntingly beautiful.

"seasons heat and chill him but he fails to notice for he is inside his head"

"unsteadily he stands and thinks thoughts thickly"

Namaste, Jane

Perfect Virgo said...

Finn- I know where you are young man. I will be in touch.

HP - I have been woefully remiss in that department of late so thank you for confirming this picture qualifies!

Jane - welcome officially (though we already are acquainted.) As one who knows I am pleased you see beauty even in this, thank you for reading. Sadness is beautiful and poignant.

The deepest darkest recesses of the mind are horrific places to walk. Reality and fantasy blur there as a cursed inquisitive mind examines itself for flaws.

But occasionally serenity and contentment flood in to banish the terror. I hope my next journey inside is like a summer holiday. Stark contrasts become an acceptable way of life.

RuKsaK said...

That was hugely introspective - no mean feat and you clearly have mansions with a mulitude of corridors in your mind.

By the way, a friend of mine has just started a blog and I thought it might be your kind of thing:

http://schmollocks.blogspot.com/

Cheers

Perfect Virgo said...

Ruk - thanks Ruk, inside looking out is fucking tough. Inside looking deeper inside is tougher still but needs to be done sometimes. Padding those corridors can be a lonely business.

Your friend has good taste in music! I look forward to more of his reviews...

Grace said...

This is quite amazing PV, I keep coming back to read it! I am also going to reply to your email VERY soon! Thanks for your comment :-)

Perfect Virgo said...

Grace - thanks for reading, odd how things like this come unbidden to the surface in times of trouble... I'm checking my inbox regularly! - no, wait til you have time :)

Cocaine Jesus said...

powerful but ugly. an inner vision perhaps but not one i want ever to face again.
i admire your honesty and the way the artist in you is trying to excorcise those demons but those demons are arseholes mate, fucking wankers that whisper falsehoods into fragile heads and saddened hearts. tell them to fuck off and go away. play some libertines rather than floyd!
x

Perfect Virgo said...

CJ - too much Floyd can make a man insane! Gimme those Libertines indeed. I think the Babyshambles album is patchy although sheer brilliance in places and I'm looking forward to Carl Barat's new band's first effort even more.

Cocaine Jesus said...

yeah, i agree with your comments on babyshambles and i too am looking forward to carl's new band and album. course johnny ?burrel/borrel of razorlight was also a libertine at one time wasn't he and i very much like them.

Perfect Virgo said...

CJ - Johnny Borrell wasn't a member of The Libertines but he certainly lives that life. I love Razorlight too and the similarities are clear. Carl's Band (Dirty Pretty Things) have a track you can listen to on their official site - it's much more Libertines than Babyshambles I think.

NMAMFQLMSH said...

I see you bro. I really do.
JJ

Perfect Virgo said...

JJ - yep that's my reflection alright! Glad to see you back...

Cocaine Jesus said...

far be it from me to argue but read this from wikipedia...
"He was briefly a member of The Libertines and remains friends with Carl Barat. The Libertines' song "The Boy Looked At Johnny" is reputedly about Borrell, and Razorlight album track "Don't Go Back To Dalston" is reputedly directed at Pete Doherty, telling him to curtail his drug habit. However, it was recently reported that his former friend Pete Doherty headbutted him backstage at the Leeds Festival."

i think the bet was your record collection. drop it in next time you are passing.
x

Perfect Virgo said...

CJ - humble pie is quite tasty when you get used to it! My collection is going nowhere - all bets are off!! How about this on the BBCs site?

"Borrell went to school with Libertines bassist John Hassall and sometimes played with the band as they worked their way up the scene's ranks.

The Libertines are "old mates of mine", Borrell says. "We were always really close and I never wanted to join their band when they asked me because I've got my own thing."

(Slinks off, tail betwen legs muttering something about - 'but only while they were working their way up the ranks.')

Cocaine Jesus said...

ha ha. for once i got it right. of course iwon't mention the multitude of times i get it wrong!

Perfect Virgo said...

CJ - I'll be looking out for the bloopers now!

doughgirl said...

This is the first time I read this piece. Very touching and truthful. A stark reality. Hope you are well my friend :)