Essay Archive - Personal Writing: My Room
Personal Writing: My Room
Every time I open the door to my room, waves of hot and musty
scents of piss and sweat fill my nose. I have a contentious debate with
myself whether or not to open my closet. I'm afraid that the dead mice of
sugar hungry ants will invade my subconsious and give me bad dreams.
Debates over, closet lost. I guess I'll listen to some music. I walk to
my stereo, put in Polvo, and listen to Bat Radar over and over again.
Suddenly I have the urge to write, so I push the magazines, clothes, small
scribblings, and other crap to one side of my love seat, and get out some