M(6)

 

moments after.  God I’m so grotesque.  I hate myself so fucking much.  I am my least favorite person.  stands to reason since I’m the most putrid person I know.  Fuck, I’m still searching, always obfuscating.  Only rhtyyms .  there were only rhythyms.  At the Angle.  Fitting I was at the Angle.  I was in right angle room.  Haven’t gone further than this it’s been said and so true.  God, I’m pathetic.  Mother, please pray for me.  I’m so not worth it.  You idiot.  You dumb fucking worthless piece of this.  Ugly bastard.  Fat ugly bastard.  No well wishing.  Gotta forget everything.  Attentive still.  So much chaos.  In every kingdom there must exist.  Want to cry but I can’t.  am I capable of feeling genuine emotion or am I simply enacting a learned proximity?  I’m not capable of anything good, that much is certain.  Yes, want to cry and slam my head against something but I’m only capable of the latter.  Brain on fire.  Shards through my thoughts.  More than cover it.  Ghost.  Rather intense look.  Skipping.  Not me!  exercise.  Each little thread of fabric.  Grey.  Oh to….  The master.  Oh to….  Adoration.  One pure moment.  Pure is not the right word.  Never could be.  Close proximity?  I need to drink heavily now.  Yes, green.  Green wheels.  Time and again I tell myself….  Sitting there in a corner.  Time and again I tell myself….   Those wheels….eliciting a….don’t it make you….don’t it make you….i miss….no code here.  gotta piece that all together (someone will have to piece me together).   Yes, blocking again.  But someone else, multiple elses were capable and I had a brief moment where I was able to feel that this was better than….  Still, not the right phrasing.  Someone should be.  No, not that either.  Somewhere here on earth.  That is a lovely approximation.  Forgive me for being such a raving asshole all the goddam time.  I really fucking hate myself for whatever that’s worth.  Yes, I deserve nothing good.  But seeing that good ,need to focus on that.  Need to disappear.  Point it at left side of chest.  I’m sure those last couple minutes will be deeply unpleasant but a couple unpleasant minutes can undo one MASSIVE fucking mistake.  You’re such a fucking fool, such a fucking idiot.  Remedy is omission.  Remove yourself.  Only sane thing to do.  Only good thing to do.  Boxed in everywhere because I am nothing if not a constant worthless fuckup.  

Dispiriting. Praising the plastic industry. Stay away, stay away.  Good lord all in a haze now.  None of it matters.  Could it be the end? One would hope.  Cause nothing really matters, nothing really matters.  Fading.  Drifting away.  Don’t have the strength for anything anymore.  All fragmentary.  As it should be I suppose.  Orange to black and white.  One look.  I can…streets of fire.  Need to make the connection there.  All impossible.  You’re fucking up again.  Obfuscating.  After all the bullshit from days prior.  To be able to engage in discussion.  Nothing heated now.  Now everything numb.  But to explain.  Up on the way up and up on the way back.  Gray.  Fog.  No easy entry points.  But if I could’ve explained it all.  Passing by, everything glass and neon.  Ice cream.  All left behind now.  Go back to times before.  Everything so brief.  In this place of fantasy.  Buy and sell fantasy.  Because it all returns to grey now.  Returns to nothing.  Shut down and pretend.  Try to find a sliver of meaning anywhere.  All soon to be broken.  Up at night, feeling these forces slowly coming together.  Moving toward.  Slouching toward.  Nothing makes me happy.  That’s not really a bad thing though.  Maybe that belongs somewhere else. 

No, all straight now, driving around, everything deep green, lush, fog, water, grey water, everything grey, listening to something grey, no easy entry points, all so dated, not a bad thing, it’s what happens when you focus so much on craft, consummate craftsman, careful craft, so insular, world passing you by, who is this for?  Of course, only the devoted will wait around long enough to unravel, to dig through the dirt and see if there is anything of value.  I can’t make pithy statements.  I can’t make worthwhile observations about anything.  Turn to the right, nothing there.  This is the dream.  Not quite right, make corrections.  Turn to the right, make pithy observations.  What are we talking about again?  Everything I do is so uninteresting.  Share with no one.  Don’t obfuscate.  Share with someone.  All illusory.  Returning to the place of fantasy.  Poison living inside of me.  Alter all of your thoughts so they do not feel real anymore.  Neither one of us quite existed in this reality at that moment.  All of us sad.  Can you understand there is no reality here?  There is no kindness within me.  There is only a desperation for some false connection.  And then a need for it to be reborn.  Going in one direction.  What could I even relate?  So hard to begin again.  Nothing to offer.  Nothing inside.  I don’t know anymore.  And you’ll never know.  Of course I see how washed up I am.  How utterly useless.  It’s hurts so much to talk to anyone.  Things are spilling over.  Overlapping.  I just need to go and get through those passages, don’t you see the similarities.  So much canned drama.  Just willfully stay trapped on the island.  Why not.  Obfuscate but not really, all found in those pages.  Few minutes genuine.  Hard to say.  Impossible to say.  What is genuine.  What is anyone even looking for?  It all comes from me and that’s why it’s so worthless.  He just wanted to talk.  For a little while.  Got to get rid of the wheels  driving all night.  Make yourself scarce.  Hide.  Forget.  If only there was a way so they would forget.  Silly you.  As though anyone would remember anyway.  Of course, I think as my head goes light, how utterly proper.  I am worthless.