for the void

there was a time, i guess it was closing time, and i could feel the wolves circling, and the vultures up ahead slavering, and even flies gathering, blue bottles, green bottles. I knew. She didn't, i don't guess. You might have. The modem kept flickering in and out, so at a hint, I went and spent time with my assistant. I was stressed so bad that I was shaking, but she was always cool as a cucumber. her nerves were sour too, but for different reasons. I had put one in her, so maybe that was it. She couldn't be happy with anything, but i did satisfy her in that regard, i guess. i'm ok with it, but i wanted to chat, you know?

So i held her, frightened beyond my wits, sweating from it a little, wandering heart's fireworks splattering my shame across the universe.

I think about it sometimes, that I was born with this whole crazy trip inside of myself, as much as there will be and was, decompressing from a few chemicals collapsed into some stray gametes, from my mother's fuck.

so we did, you know, haphazardly. she was tired, i was getting ready for the minor death of all i was. i didn't know the devil and his children were sharpening their cutlery for the feast, but the time for me to pay my dues had come.

and i was spent, you know.

and i'm sitting there hot and sticky, her barely awake for the pitiful puppet show, and i'm wondering about you. i did the right thing, you know. I had demured, for although it looked real nice, a brass kaleidoscope with jewels, when I had a silver one, well, whatever it was- I knew my place was at her side, and although I am a rascally rabite, I knew the difference between right and wrong enough to be a man for a change.

I had done so much work inside myself that was completely unrewarded, unappreciated, and completely obliterated by my completely unethical dehumanization. the first few weeks I stayed in tears, upset so bad, with all those bastards working on me like a drunken dentist. the stakes were so high.

  • they were looking at a poor man's hell themselves, and they came in droves, with me sick. that was some of the hardest of it. over and over all the hamfisted brutality, "show me how" "show me where" "show me when"

    and it sapped me of my vital resources, as the demon swayed to the music of my downfall like a cobra, and struck.

    i remember I nearly had a heart attack one night, and the crowd was rough and agitated, there were four of us in a walk in water closet, like slabs in a meat warehouse, and i nearly got roughed up by one of them, as I sat enjoying a florid little NDE, each slam of my heart's pulse its own little apocolypse.

    i wont much mull or meander moreso, but i am less than a man and more than a man in the end. something like a shadow, a philosopher king, and a blood feeding insect that laughs.

    my sense of humor was not my salvation, but a rugged and thirsty gift from God, an anchor of madness in an ocean of madness, and although I am stripped of my dignity, and so forth, I will see, some day, if it is indeed that the joke's on me.

  • you can't get here fast enough
    you can't get here fast enough
    you can't get here fast enough

    i will swim to you
    i will swim to you

    it's the look of the lioness to her man across the nile

  • i hope every one of you that did that to her burn in hell forever without a drop of water.

  • “Space Station for Sharks”
    - CHB0403085482


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