Last night was amazing.
For a second I looked at you and saw someone else. A beautiful and effortless escape from everything. I could breathe, I wasn’t scared. For once I thought I understood how it felt to truly accept the abstraction that is hope. If I had started everything before the fall, maybe I wouldn’t be disappointed.
Gushing, sticky torrents of red death always bring me back to that place, the warm fuzzy imaginations. All blurry, undefined… yet concretely recalled. The only way I could ever live. Something calls out to me in the dark, a relenting force of my nature. Very deep, very close. I catch glimpses, fragments that I wish I could really piece together.
Yet still, I play the game, I feign my memories, construct the chaos of half nightmares and fever dreams. Sometimes I can almost feel the truth and it scares me. I want what is hiding inside my head but I don’t have the time to find it.
“Distractions “: my car, work, phones, coupons, money, food, plastics, oil, god, colors, availability, time, grape bubble gum, junk food, king sized products, lake houses, criminals, ham and cheese, killer bees, dandruff, kidney stones, galvanized rubber, compact discs, hobbies, ninjas, auto racing, focus groups, talking heads, koala bears, mail, dreams, nightmares, reality, time, time, regret, fear, addiction, greed, death, life, government, money, disease, justice, god, money, money, money, money, television, god, suicide, muscle, tissue, flesh, bone, blood, sex, cunt, medicine, disappointment, free range chickens, nicotine, passivism, jack the ripper, helium, cursive, family, school, coordination, reiki, hell, bottled water, dirt, flash lights, computers, drywall, matinee, incense, dreams, logic, avarice, disease, god, money, disease, power, flesh, plus… minus.
Why not, I’m just as good as anyone else. I deserve just my little bit too, don’t I?
Reverse and re-order, re-arrange the process of life. It can be what you want, but it really can’t… so stop trying. The lie is lying about the truth. It is the great deception, the only thing we live for; the belief in ourselves. I can’t stop the world, but if I could I would certainly try. When the only thing you have left is yourself you are HUMAN…you are real and you have been born posthumously. Vice controls me, I am a weak being who wishes/thinks he is strong. Someone who attempts to take part even though he doesn’t really want to.
Indigestion, gas, nausea:
the reality of being human.
Mind, matter, emotion and sick. Sticky, red torrents of death spewing from my mouth, from my cock, from my heart. From my pen onto the page.
I have fantasies, I think of genocide. The end of all things, the death of millions, of thousands, of two… it does not matter. To differentiate is to waste time. Just do, just remove, just free. Symbiotic nature will break down and things will start to revert. Back to basics; we can’t survive. We have become dependent, bred into slaves by our lives. “Thank god I’m still an atheist!” The exterminating angel, that obscure object of desire. To Luis I tip my hat. Automatic I know, so lazy, so cliché. I can’t help it… it feels too good. Just to write. Self indulgent? (blatantly) Fuck you… it’s therapeutic, cathartic…
you made it impure, you made it ego by making me write it in the first place, by making me want you to see it. By making me feel the need to be heard, validated, proven to that I exist.
