Despite a day of activity. Of progress. I feel stunted, like I shot myself in the foot and put socks and shoes on anyway, wondering why it hurts to walk. Make tea, smoke tea, forget about it. That fear lurking behind corners. I think it might be psychological. Something in my diet shifting shit around in my head. I helplessly procrastinate in the face of awful, soul-crushing anxiety. I've got pills sure. Pills won't help me keep my head above water. More like floating face down. Flapping arms around like windmills.
Turn stupid and dull in a single instant. One whack to the skull, chipping off fragments like sedimentary rock. Go now, and far. Isn't it nice to know where you will be in one month, two? How to survive in that climate. How to push it away and then chase after it. This is how to start a wild fire. This is how to knock small chips into the wall and wake up, slapping ass and squeaking bed, sometime past 3 am on a tuesday morning. By Janus. Nothing you do makes much sense to my simple brain, young thing. Just go. Just leave. Listen to something until it dies then move to the next. Like sucking everything out of an apple. Tossing around the core and moving on. Using people like objects or puzzle pieces, filler in a larger picture. Find the puzzle you have been missing from. Perhaps it is in the sky. And in death you are reunited to make the greater picture. My god. You were the missing link. The hole in the ozone. There is no creator, only a fossil record. One day he intervened, after a few million years of natural evolutionary selection pressures... to increase the cranial capacity of some ancestor to us. To you. To me. Read me. Love me. Consume me as you do wine or bread. I am the parting sea and the departing future shipwreck. I travel at full speed towards flat vertical surfaces that I can spot in the distance. A human slingshot straight into a brick wall. Falling off of bridges. Dreaming about people you shouldn't. Made a mistake to tell me. I won't put it over you. I simply will never know why I was brought up. Perhaps someone misses me but doesn't tell me.
This is self experimentation. This is transformation. My wrist is sore from bass practice. My back is sore from homework. My brain feels like a wet washcloth. More like a put out fire. Was aflame. Burning and heating my blood. Suddenly drained of energy like a mop. Soak up water or something and let it ring. Shake shake shake shake. Where is the greatness? When can I do great things and work with children in need? A school tour? What the hell does that mean? A powerful message about drinking and driving. Blindness. Heartwarming stuff. Blowing smoke from a last cigarette. Weeks old. Years old. Three years ago. Blinded by searing glass and flesh. It all burns eventually and we fell in love when we hurt the most. A revelation.
Chapstick and incense.
Pull off every fingernail on your hands. With pliers.
Screaming ovation during a moment of silence.
What will your epitaph read.
Who will receive your best material possessions.
Is it nice or awful to know just what you want.
How to be content?
There is so much. I feel like I could make a considerable impact on the world.
Why aren't I?
What is the deal. Where are the crossroads and the devil and the deep blue sea. I want to sell my soul. For sake of my wellbeing.
I am lost.
The war is lost.
The city is lost.
These ghosts are lost. Wandering.
All trying to speak over each other about such trivial matters.
I can never enter that world, I realize.
They are not me. I am not they. We hate and intimidate.
I miss everything.
But I cannot regret.
My strife. My life I endure. These sun drenched retards. The scum of the earth. Cannot bring me down. Despite all of their intentions. I get mad. I get angry. I take it out on myself after one too many drinks and smoke myself stupid. Drinking and drowning in the desert.
What it feels like to drown nowhere near a natural water source.
