Dusty beginnings

It all started here in this dusty, stereotypical hotel room in the desert with a bed full of noisy springs and stains hidden in the chaos of the carpet pattern built to do just that. Here is where is where the snake will bite its own tail in that endless loop. My memories, such as they are, were nothing but tangled wire in mind. Barbs along their lengths poke and damage me as I try and trace them from origin to now. The pain of death, the sorrow of people's leaving, the pleasures of sleepless nights, all were tangled together in a mess with no beginning or end, only the endless loop. Time has been funny to me lately. It ebbs and flows incoherently as if drunk leaving me the one to feel dizzy and sick to my stomach. I have stared down the tunnel of death more than a few times, and a few times walked to its end, but still here I sit in dusty jeans in a dusty room with a mind full of dust. That is all that is left of me, what I was who I was, dust. Nothing but the powdered remains of a life half lived rest on me and fall to the floor in this tired room. The water in the bathtub is cooling, and the cuts will hurt more. That's fine. What's the infinite pleasure of rest without a little pain?

Far away from a hotel room with cooling, empty path, and way before the room was event rented the day started with such promise. Fall in Arizona was always a subtle treat. Granted, the drama of leaves changing color wasn't a part of the play here but the feeling of cooling weather and shorter days triggered lazy feelings in comfortable chairs. Now, that is what I wanted. The traffic on the interstate was creeping along at what felt like only a breath faster than a jog. Taillights gleamed rhythmically ahead as brakes were consistently tapped with impatient feet. My own joined the light show without missing a beat. The miles before home always seemed to stretch the longest. On the radio a monotone man was describing delays on Interstate 10 due to a roll over that blocked all east bound traffic. Now you tell me, I think. Not when I was further west, the stretch of cars that now blocked my travel nowhere in sight, and with the thought of taking a wistful little detour. Now, like everyone else, I am trapped here. I was in no hurry to be home though and the sun was only just setting behind me with a cool breeze drifting in from my open window.