Barren of Temperance

The clock fell from the wall as the train roared by the window. He couldn’t remember where the rips in his shirt came from. Disoriented and stunned at the sound resonating from the train, he shook his head, straining to focus on the image facing him. The knife in his hand dripped warm blood and torn pieces of flesh to the tiles that covered the floor. His breathing was labored, like he had run a marathon, and his mind rushed to explain what his eyes were viewing in the mirror on the wall facing him. It was as if he were watching a movie, yet all of the smells, sounds, and objects were screaming at him, relentlessly thrusting one piece of reality after the next into his face.