The Disfactor

AND MY STERO SANG BY: Jabram Raven Allen February 25, 2013 In the midnight hour  amidst  my apartment's withering flowers, my stereo sang. Physically, hideously out of date, it sat faithfully within my rooms moldy silence blurting out hymns of blasphemous New Age choirs; all this it did as I sat at a small glass table covered with simple white cloth bemoaning my fate upon this wretched orb.  I sat in mortal darkness silently, cursing life; only my fear of hell kept me from reaching for that I most desired – a swift and sudden death.  While heaving in unwanted breaths, my salt rimmed eyes caught a glimpse of a spirited shadow that appeared swiftly above my fireplace, a dancing Rorschach whose twin ruby embers plunged through my self induced cannabis, pinot fog piercing deeply into my battered brain. Of what horrid shapes its confusing blots presented my weary soul in its fevered state I dare not say; especially not of that fearful image through which it showed me its dis