Lurk

I’ve been looking for a man named Nathan. Nate, he goes by. But I like calling him Nathan in my head. Knowing he hates it makes it all the more nourishing to me. Sweet like nectar. Warm like blood. He drives a white Volkswagen. White Volkswagen. Turns out there's a lot of those. Many. Too many. Who the fuck really likes those things that much? Far too many. Way too many. I spend my nights chasing too many.

Sifting through white Volkswagens, eyes numb with sleeplessness. Too sore to blink. Too wired to wonder. I’ll find that bastard in a white Volkswagen. And he’ll not see me coming. Not see me heavy. Too heavy. Too heavy. It’ll be quick. Nothing seen. Nothing broken. Nothing lost. Just Nathan. Poor little Nathan. He’ll exist always as Nathan. They use your full name on stones.

Too many white Volkswagens to count. To remember. I’ve followed too many into the dusk. Into pale mornings. Eyes burning. Too many Volkswagens. Focus on the ones with LED’s. Bright fuckers. Too bright. Too blinding. But it's obvious. Too obvious. White Volkswagen, LEDs. I’ll find it. I’m running out of Volkswagens. There’s got to be more. More than you’d think. Will it be obvious?

I’ll find it tomorrow morning. Is it really morning? Bright fucking morning. It had to be morning. Find him next morning. Find him next morning.

DFG and FTE are nothing. Cross them off. Keep them separate. Running out of Volkswagens. Fading with Volkswagens. Waking with Volkswagens. I’ll find him before morning. Before you lose your quickness. Your edge. Your fast twitch muscle fibers that make you fearless. Flowy. Fast. In and out.

FTN and GOT. Got. Got you. Getting him. Cruising through them now. Almost certain. Almost done. Finding it sooner. Finding it faster. Shouldn’t be longer. Another night tops. I’m certain of it. Certain. Trusting in Volkswagens. You know which ones to look for now. 16-21. LEDs. I’ll find him soon. Little Nathan. Not so little. About to be small. About to be Nathan.

It’ll be before morning. I know it like morning. Bright fucking morning. How could it be morning? Morning is sour. Morning is dull. Pale fucking morning. Eyes burn like morning. Knife-eyed by morning. Stung. Tomorrow’s the day. I just know it’s the day. Running out of Volkswagens. There’s too many Volkswagens. Ruined by Volkswagens.

New moon is brighter. Sharpens the view. Sharpens my witts. I’ll find him in an White Volkswagen. Too many fucking Volkswagens. Bright fucking Volkswagens. Too bright like...Christmas. You’ll miss me like Christmas. Not me. Nathan. Nathan’s like morning. Too bright. No, he’s worse. He’s dangerous. He has to be stopped. Has to be. He has to be.

I’ll be smarter than them. Smarter than Nathan. Christmas Nathan. Too small to be bright. Too stone to be steel. It’s heavy. Too heavy. Doesn’t fit the hand. Not my hand. Who’s hand does it fit? FLR. Not FLR. Cross it off. It’s not Nathan. Too small to be Nathan. Little Nathan. Cocksucker Nathan.

There’s not many Volkswagens. Running out of Volkswagens. Still haven’t found him. There’s got to be more. I know there’s more. I’ve seen more. TFE and HMN haven’t been sure yet. Lost them a while ago. Still haven’t found them. Lost them in mourning. Morning. Is it fucking morning? Dog shit morning. Too fucking bright. Eyes don’t work. Losing their focus. Losing their edge. Tomorrow’s a new one. TFE or HMN will be the one. I’m certain. Certain like morning. Concrete in morning. Trusted in morning.

Bright moon is brighter. Give’s me more sharpness. Better edges. Not TFE. Too big to be Nathan. Nathan can’t manage. He’s far too little. Too small. I’ll find him in a white Volkswagen. They make two whites for Volkswagen. Two whites. Why two whites? Too many kinds of white. White for a fucking Volkswagen. Too many Volkswagens. Finding more Volkswagens. More white. Brighter.

Find the brighter white. Bright with the bright lights. The ones that are too bright to handle. Too bright to listen. Bright like the whiteness. Not the dull white. Mornings are dull. More dull than Nathan. Nathan is sharp. Not like me. I’m sharper. Heavier. More certain. More subtle. More. More, morning? It had to be morning. Cocksucking morning. Knives in my eyes. Sharper than morning. Stinging in morning. Find him tomorrow.

He’s getting closer now. I can taste it. Feel it. Corse plastic. Cool steel. Brittle on the grip. It’s heavy. Too heavy. Doesn’t fit my hand. Who’s hand is it for?

Don’t overcomplicate it. Don’t waver. Don’t waffle. Be calm. Clear. It can be done. It will be done. I won’t be distracted. Won’t be disturbed. Be still. Certain.

HMN is still unknown. I’ve seen it a few times. Several. Lost it once through an intersection. The one at Church and Pine. Once more in the parking garage. Two times it’s escaped me. I have to be better. Quick. But subtle. He can’t know. He won’t know.

HMN is still missing. Where the fuck is it? I’m tired of Volkswagens. Too many Volkswagens. Bright white. LEDs. One more left. Got to be Nathan. Didn’t take long. A few days. A week tops. Sooner than I thought. I’ve cruised through all of them. All of them. No more white Volkswagens.

Except for one.

I’ve got him. Cocksucker Nathan. HMN. It’s him. Little Nathan. Short and sweet. Careless. Unaware. Carrying coffee and keys to his white Volkswagen. Bright white. LEDs. Too bright. He has no idea. Doesn’t see me. Doesn’t care. Doesn’t notice. Poor little Nathan.

It can’t be done here. No. No. Bright fucking morning. Sun. Pale yellow horizon lines and burning eyes. Sour stomach. Aching. HMN. That’s the one. Soon. Soon.

I slept in my car. Did it on purpose. Needed to make sure I was here in the morning. Shaking off morning. Still moving slowly. Rubbery. Tight. Shake it loose. Grip it tightly. It’s heavy. Always been heavy. Mechanical racking. Clack clack. It breaks the silence. The stillness. Inhale. Exhale. It feels lighter. Still rough. Scratchy plastic in my hand. Still doesn’t fit.

I see him. He sees me. Walking. He’s walking over. What should I do? He can’t see me. Not yet. Not now. It’s too soon. Too soon. He’ll ruin it. Think quickly. Toss it in the glovebox. It feels heavy. Fix your hair. Bed head. Bad breath. Stale tongue. He’s getting closer. Crack the window so you can hear him.

Are you okay, sir? Is there someone I can call?

Sweet little Nathan. So polite. I’m fine. Sorry to bother you. I’ll be on my way. Start the car. Hit the gas. Don’t look back. Don’t let him see you. Can’t let him remember. Have to be smart.

Smarter than Nathan. Better than Nathan. I’ve been looking for a man named Nathan. He goes by Nate. I like calling him Nathan in my head. Knowing he hates it makes it more satisfying. Nourishing. Thick like honey. Briney like sweat. I’ll find that bastard in a red Volkswagen.

Red Volkswagen. Too many Volkswagens…