The many roads of destruction.

May 4, 2011 § Leave a comment

Indie is in trouble.

His boyfriend has split up with him over his drinking the day before yesterday, and so now he has been drunk for two days. It is awful to see, his eyes are red and swollen, his arms blue and black from falling over outside, he is hoarse from crying; his voice reduced to a sad creaking, a whisper.

He has not eaten properly for many weeks, we think. His clothes hang from him, his skin, once so tanned and healthy looking, is sagging and dull and blossoming with pimples. His bracelets jangle around twig wrists,  his eyes bulge like a hanged man from the deepening sockets in his skull. I think he is needing to go to the hospital, but he will not go. Penny and I are telling him that he must or he might die, but he refuses and says that he just needs a few days to sort himself out. The worry eats at her pretty face, creating lines around her mouth that is usually so smiling.

Her cheese-faced man is not so good for her I think – he is a passive thing, he lets the world bowl him along, like a tumbling weed, he has no directions, and like the rough weeds he is sharp and thorny in places. More than once I have seen her face streaked with the tears from his bitter words, and I think more than once a yellowing bruise upon her skin, like fading petals, is due his fists. She though, will not hear testament against him, and swears his love and honour to us when we are worried for her.

I cannot waste my thoughts on him now, when Indie is so horribly sick. If only there is a way to take the alcohol from him, but he says that he will harm himself if we do, with a knife or with pills. I tell him he is harming himself already, kicking his liver to death, and he lashed out like a snarling bear. He is so thin, wire covered in flesh; the corners of his mouth turned almost comically down, like the lips of a clown. I am certain that if he does not stop drinking then we will find him soon choked on his own vomit in bed, or simply dead in the road. What can be done with such stubborn will to destroy oneself?


Tagged: , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading The many roads of destruction. at Kovalski and the Wild Flowers.


%d bloggers like this: