Three years down the road, what’s there to show for the misery of adulthood? Maybe nothing, maybe that god like new soda fountain they installed at your place of business. Quickly installed by your local Pepsi representative. But you can only buy Diet since the gluttons down in reception made a few salty complaints. Proof that they were nothing better than extra skin and a few brain cells. A diet soda will not cancel out your Bacon Cheese Fries with Onion Ring BBQ Pizza. I don’t see the old Pepsi delivery man these days as often or even at all. But I seem to be getting ahead of myself.
It hit me one night in a cold sweat, four sleepless evenings and a hellish sore in my back. God I pray for death, but it never comes along. Maybe it’s for the best, my dog needs a friend. The same way you re-watch your favorite Premium Cable channels on your DVR when the addiction of television and the glare of empty space defeats your greatest hopes and dreams of a future worth living. A friend in technology is a friend greater than the outside world.
Each night staring into the vacant visions of monitors wanting to let it all go and fucking scream my head off. Then one day the feeling ceased to tickle the back of my tongue. A day where everything seemed to just make sense looking into another humans eyes hand in hand, eyes locked, the fact that I happen to be running on benzos and cheap beer mean nothing right now as our fears are lifted towards the sky of our fading dreams and broken hearts..
“Wake up kid! “ Not a Psilocybin flashback but a reality caused by the non hatred of ones self without tying a rope to your neck and your dick in your hand. You are no legend, you are a human fucking being the last time I cut myself shaving. I used to never think to touch a razor aside to give myself a reminder of how much I used to love my self and my great life decisions. When the site of blood got as boring as a snuff film. The drugs just don’t tap that special part of the brain that blocks out any faint hope of everything being ok, because its not. Nor will it ever be.
The time spent over the years, eyes open, heart on sleeve, massive drinking and one hell of a sleeping problem over the years have made me tired and beat up feeling. Each day ceases to bring forth any joy without the thought of your angelic face decayed in an interesting manner. Your voice rings through my telephone, or my ears. What’s really the difference anymore? The point is that you will never live up to the kings of times past. You are your own pawn in whatever game of life you choose to follow down. My loss was my feelings of pain towards one self and the self destruction of openly made punishment towards ones self. Leave me alone and I’ll die by your side in a bed of nails and semen stains of love past. I let you in and you tore me apart. These things do happen, opposite of what this existence should be, or should have ever became. My first grade teacher was right when he gripped me up for using the wrong handed scissors and calling me a wasted gift of his lords cock. Maybe I should’ve taken his advice or shoved those scissors through his fucking face cavity and deep into my wrist calling for my self pity. How could this happen? Fuck my name, what have we become under the fog filled evenings and rotting picnic benches where we carved our names for the world to see. Last I saw the tables were a playground for middle aged moms to bring their children to. A safe haven that happens to have swallowed all we ever cared for in a mass sea of plastic sea creatures,and piss stained slides.
Maybe this will all pass? Maybe I'll have a draino shot with Jameson? Or maybe I'll stop typing this and walk away? Maybe close these eyes and sink into the normalcy of my self made prision of my life.
Amazing show, and episode.
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