Fucked: gratuitous curses for the sake of a troubled mind
It’s become an addiction, really it has. Easily addicted. Addicted to that mind that fucked up, sick mind that so minds me. Envelops my body in illness, mental illness of the fucking mind. Diseased thoughts, abnormally waxing literal discourse and ripping the sheets in frustration, desirous for a beauty that never came to pass. Why? Again, I say it again because it does not leave me the fuck alone. Why? An addictive personality that so hates itself as to need outside forces to exist. To feel. To breathe. Easily addicted. Take it in. Breathe it through, think it through, over and fucking over again.
It’s become an addiction that will not let you be. An anxiety, a forever burning thought in the body. A forever shivering thought through the skin. A light touch that beckons. More. More. Faster. Harder. Disabling every living faculty, every survival tactic, any holding on. Why? I say again. Why? Who does this? Who wants and needs so terribly, so effortlessly, so grievously as to hate and love and hate again.
A fucking addiction. A fucking addicted, perilous stain on the earth and the sea and the mind. Disrespectful of everything that came before and everything that will come again. An emptiness, sorrow-filled waiting, waiting, waiting, wait. For the next hit, the next buzz, the next inhale, the next touch. Trembling in agonizing despair. Just one more. Please. Just one more and then I promise. I promise to do better. I promise to be better. Yes. Tomorrow. But tomorrow has become an addiction, too. Completely, utterly, desperately fucked.
24 July 2007 at 12:48 am
“Where is the madness that you promised me?”
By contrast, sanity is really not all it’s cracked up to be. One note, bum note at that. Go there for a holiday now and then but for God’s sake don’t get on the property ladder.
Creatively, I’d sooner live one fateful gas-cooker punctuated day as Sylvia Plath, than an entire lifetime as Wendy Cope.
24 July 2007 at 1:00 am
Hi, Ben. It’s so good to see you here.
Don’t worry, I have never been able to save enough for a down payment on anything.
24 July 2007 at 6:35 am
“Who wants and needs so terribly, so effortlessly, so grievously as to hate and love and hate again.”
I must not raise my raise my hand. I must not raise my hand. I must not. No.
And I’m with Ben. Sanity is dull. I cannot think of even a handful of sane people with whom I would want to spend even a moment. Having not been able to think of a handful, I may indeed chop off that hand.
I wouldn’t wish a diseased mind on anyone - wurprisingly. I’m not that warped - but I do hope that your mind never changes from being at least ‘different’ if it produces the kind of evocative writing I’ve read here.
24 July 2007 at 9:24 am
Unreliable: I was left momentarily speechless/breathless. The all too common side effect of reading you.
So I’ll simply say thank you and try not to blush. Not too much. Not much at all.
24 July 2007 at 7:42 pm
“Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.”
-Charles Bukowski
I concur.
24 July 2007 at 7:49 pm
Hi, Venus. It’s true I’ve always loved that dirty old man.