As I said in another site, a man who dresses like that has some balls I'd like to handle. Oh, and if you have any funny comments to make concerning gayness, please refer to the previous post's picture. Thank you.
degrees of hard and absurd. Maybe it’s the planets. I can rephrase a famous
poet’s last words and say I had a lover’s quarrel with God, not the world.
aren’t good days. These are days to stay indoors and avoid all electrical
appliances. Psst. Wear a helmet too, just to be sure.
Life is also
degrees of unfair, and the only actual source of solace and comfort are
friends. You can pray all you want, light all the candles that you want, but
there will be no answer. Or maybe I am persona non-grata, and the rest of you
are fine with the Almighty Asshole, so don’t listen to me. Pray on. See if He
gives a fuck.
my head as I am considering ways of burning down the heavens. So far I’ve
disregarded three plans and I am looking for possible flaws in a fourth.
I am also
considering having more tattoos and blowing my brains out, but those are just
silly thoughts, the exasperation of the slave that has been a punching bag, a
toilet girl, and ashtray and a mule for her entire life. Oh, did I mention free
therapist/ healer as well? Write that down under everything else. Now look at
the title, it has my name, my photo, and the 'mysterious' inscription ‘idiot-sucker-moron’ next to it. In impressive big red letters. With the additional
information/clarification “desperate to please” noted just under that. What a
offer my middle finger and piss on the shadow of every power hungry pantheon of
the planet. I am so sick of you, you fucking pushers, pimps and bullies of
human despair. I shit on you. I defy you. I deny you. I’ll make you pay,
Spider Jerusalem style. I swear I will, even if it takes away everything I
have. I haven’t got much left to begin with, since you took it all away. Sanity
isn’t compatible with the kind of life I am left with.
I refuse to
live here. I want to pack my stuff and leave, go away to some plane that isn’t
governed by deities with a small dick and a big opinion on themselves and their
equally small-minded Renfield-like followers. Those sad idiots do the dirty
work for free, they are so narrow-minded and easy to control that they create a
living hell in a place that was supposed to be neutral ground aspiring to
heaven. And I see these humans everywhere. Everywhere. They are the threshold
keepers, always knowing better and deciding whether you are to be allowed in
the ‘elite’ or not. They are the priests, or the defenders of normality in
various positions, telling you what is normal and what isn’t natural and God
looks down upon you and will burn you for it. They are politicians, licking the
asses of each other and the asses of multinational corporations and banks and
stepping on the backs of everyone else. They are even the rude person who
steals your place in a queue, the neighbour that minds your business instead of theirs, the parent who raised you to be unhappy for the rest of your life.
curses of my grandmother, I fart in their weddings and shit on their properly
mowed grass. They can go suck my fuck.
I want an
exploding vagina. I want big fucking guns and ammunition. I want lethal boobs.
I want to rid humanity of a few dozen deities who drink the blood of the
innocents and revel in our pain and entrapment. I want to squash these bloated
leeches who are feasting on our dreams, our happiness and our good fortune. I
want to stomp and dance on their corpses. I want to find a way to bring down
the veil and release the planet of this tyranny. First and foremost I want to
release myself from their tyranny.
They say if
you want something, really want something, you might get it. I won’t leave this
to chance. I'll work towards it. We’ll see.
You’ll see. You have been warned.
Does this feeling of discontentment ever go away? Does life ever get meaningful, or simply interesting? Do I get to belong and have a place to call home? Do I get to live at all? Do I care? Or let go? What about injustice?
My head cables are arranged all wrong and tangled like snakes,
life is an endless, mind-numbing succession of days that get fewer and fewer
interrupted regularly by sleep and heartache.
The last unicorn is dead.
Reading is a form of sleeping, a soothing void of thought
or a messy affair, sometimes plagued by nightmares.
Writing is a form of avid masturbation with an audience.
I hate everything. Or lack the strength to hate, and I am merely
sick of existence.
I scratch the surface of my cell and the walls
remain intact, as if they are made of water.
Yet my nails break,
and I get to keep them as proof.
I am off to recount facts and steer clear of sympathy,
become an outsider. I don’t know any of your friends and feel cut off for good. I
loved you so much and now I am an outsider because you, the link that united us
all, are not here, and I don’t know if I like any of those people. I knew you,
I loved you, I cared about you, and all I have left from you are letters, emails,
messages and a circle of total strangers, some of them famous, who knew you
personally and I have no place among them.
At night I
listen to music and you come to my mind, and the pain just blooms and withers,
blooms and withers, like blood escaping from an open wound. Each heartbeat
makes it expand and vanish, expand and vanish in flowers of scarlet. I feel so
awkward, so isolated in my mourning because I can’t share it with anyone who
knew you. I was just the random person who happened to land in your circle
because you opened your arms and took me into your embrace and now you’re gone.
fuck am I supposed to deal with that?
Oh, I go
on, don’t worry, I go on and write and breathe and brush my teeth and suffer
fools gladly just like I did before you were gone. But sometimes during the day
or late at night I extend my hand and touch a solid object and then once more
realise you are no longer here. The indisputable reality of matter under my
touch just makes your absence bigger, harder to swallow and completely
irrational. I can’t, won’t wrap my head around the fact you’re no longer here. I
know I could talk to you about everything and anything, I could tell you my
troubles and you would understand, and even if you failed to understand you’d
never judge, and then you’d say something funny or try to offer me advice or
relate something from your own life. I speak of my troubles to so few people,
and you were one of them, and now, you’re one of them no longer and I hit the
keys on my computer and cry and nothing changes. No matter how long and how
hard I cry, what I write or don’t say, what I do or don’t dare, there will
never be another conversation with you, there will never be another letter from
you, and no-one will understand me the way you did.
I just miss
you so much my silly Finnigami.
I miss you
so much it’s like time has stopped.
If I could
get my hands on Time I’d strangle the living daylights out of him for the trick
he pulled on us both.
It’s been a
fun week, and I guess it’s going to be even more fun as the days pass by. I
have a sore back, presently on the mend. I found an abandoned kitten and I am
trying to find a home for her. I have been called delusional and insane. I have
also been accused of disloyalty by the same person who called me delusional and insane. Funny thing being, in the ten years that I know her, that person has never been loyal to me. I could try
to explain to her, of course, or tell her my side of the story. However, in my 36 years of life here I’ve noticed that an alarming
percentage of humans deny everything when you point out their own mistakes and also become enraged on top of that because they can't be anything less than perfect.
Besides, maybe the notion of loyalty for me and for that person means different things. So as
per usual I shrugged and let it pass. I wait and see what else will come to knock on my door.
who passed over less than a month ago was very loyal to me. She genuinely cared.
In her case, she understood loyalty the way I too understand
it. She wasn’t antagonistic, didn’t ogle the ones I liked and wanted to see me
happy. She did care. She didn’t care because I was doing her any favours. She
never asked for favours to begin with. She understood and respected the concept
of limited time and energy. My sensitive information was safe with her. She’d
never use it to exploit me or gain leverage. And whenever I shared good news with her, it put a smile on her face.
writing, and that’s something in itself. It’s slow and a bit scary and it’s
happening if I set my mind to it. For good or for ill, who knows. I draw breath
too and I am not sure what, if something, comes out of it.
I need to
get rid of more books as I have so many of them at the moment. I read two, I
still have about 70 unread. Life goes on. Ha ha.
Why did you
have to go? I know you loved me, and nowadays there are so few of those who do love me
with no strings attached. Why did it have to be you? You really cared, and now
that void can’t be filled and won’t be filled by anyone else.
I help you? I have helped so many others, and in some cases I didn’t care about
them, at least no more than I care about everything that draws breath and has the
capability to feel. I should have helped you more than anyone else. However, I
couldn’t. And it bothers me.
I miss you
so much and I know with the passing of time I am only going to miss you more. My
pearl, my dear, my precious Finnigami. You had to go and leave me with all the
eejits and the cunts. I miss you like I miss my moments of happiness. I miss
your jokes, your moral code, your talents and more than anything, your
kindness. People sometimes don’t understand that when I keep my mouth shut and
don’t tell them what I really think, that too is a form of kindness.
It just isn’t
fair to lose you from all people. It isn’t, or maybe fair means different
things to different states of being. I don’t know. What I know is that it hurts.