oh I see...
I am supposed to be more compassionate because it is the "Xmas" season right?? well no one is here for me, just like any other random Wednesday night. Here I am alone, being real, being true, being wasted and alone. Fuck all of society, fuck every living being beside my sweet pup. We are fine, I'm drunk, he's sleepy and warm, that's it. We don't need you and your pity.. This is life as it is, what it is, good and bad (mostly bad) I don't care, do you? Date and time are nothing more then reference. I'm sick but would be anyway, I'm dying but I always am, I'm nothing but that is who I am. I miss everything but who doesn't? life is a joke as it always is but it is not seasonal. Maybe the care is seasonal but that's as far as it goes. This American holiday means nothing. I give to the poor and pathetic though I am one of them receiving nothing.. Not in a bitter way, but seriously, I need help, I need hope too. Hope, that's what drives us all, dreams and wants, I am losing them all. A good night to me is to fall asleep lacking of all the stresses of my problems, to let them wait until tomorrow, even literally, to just get by, that's it. I ask for so little but get nothing. Hate me, hate my fight, call me what you will as I try hard, fight on, love live and be a great man to the world, it doesn't matter if I am smart or deviant, it only matters when I pay my bills and shut up. That is America, that is what we are meant for. I am not meant for anything. I am a fool to tobacco and liquor, I am a fool to the drug trade, I am a fool to the working class, I am no one to society. I have a brain, I have independent thought, I have expression. Those are not qualities. but back-draws. I am destined to quit and fail but I refuse. Fucking dammit! I am great, I am something, I think! I am! I am real! Who fucking cares? It doesn't matter. I am still me, always will be, I cannot be broken or change, I will die in a gutter as me before I conform to some bullshit I do not believe in, I hate this world and refuse to become it but strive to achieve the known beauty of it. It is such a twist of intellectualism, poetry and ironic stupidity, I don't know how to accept it or if i even could but I feel a need to keep fighting, there's a reason, a fight, a cause for it. There is a reason for all o us, a reason for passion, loss and nothing, we have something. I can't quit, i certainly cannot hate, i just want to love and be happy....
me
I'm just sick. I hate myself. I hate life. I am alone and deserve it. I should never feel good. I cannot enjoy a video, I cannot enjoy a film or a song, I do not deserve those short bursts of happiness or even contentment. I feel equal to the dreads of society. the brainless, thoughtless haters and those lacking in passion and understanding yet I am so opposite of their mentality. It doesn't matter when you are at the same level of financial contribution to society. When you share the same vices of "sex, drugs and rock & roll", even though we are all part of that, we all need it, we all have the same motivation to continue, the same rewards of life. It means nothing when you are at the bottom. I share the same deplority of a stock broker living on lake shore drive with his trophy wife, car and apartment, but we are in a different bracket and I am left judged and a loser. We both may be equally sad, equally failing emotionally and intellectually expressively but I am judged as the loser. Maybe based financially or by scene, Surviving paycheck to paycheck, fix to fix, quarter to quarter it is all the same. It is what fixes one can get in between, the needs suppressed in between, the loss ignored, the voids ignored, the emptiness ignored. It is all the same, we are all the same, the wretched ones, the real. I am the wretched one. So many of us are. I am the one. Join me, but please don't. I am better in my loneliness. I also know I am far from alone, especially in a city of pain. We reside in secrecy, it's the classy way to go, don't bitch, just keep fighting, keep being you, keep living. invest in that $2 keyboard so you can keep writing, invest in that $10 bottle so you can make it through another weekend, be proud of watching the sun rise rather than the darkness set on yourself, focus on the glimmers of hope, the peaks that make you think the future has something. Think about life, fight for life, take pleasure and endure it, soak it up, absorb every aspect of the juice that makes you cum, think of the universe that makes you mean something, even if it is that spec. If it weren't for specs there would be nothing. Atoms are but a fragment of anythings existence but if it weren't for multiples of these fragments there would be nothing. If you are nothing but a fragment, nothing but an atom of existence, you are still something, you still mean something, the more, the better, be an idiot, be a genius, its all the same, just be...
Things are
Don't rely on a damn thing, not even yourself. Maybe especially yourself. I'm not to follow my heart or mind or logic, just go. Things feel right or wrong, they linger or just dissapear upon walking away. Focus on the entire horizon...
post title
Yes, here I am. it is a Thursday night. I am lonely, I am nothing. I have done nothing. Nothing is new, nothing is old. Sell some vintage, jerk off, get drunk, you are no one. I do not want life anymore. I remember things, I remember dreams, those are all price tags now. At the level of "if you need to ask, you can't afford", I feel no hope or inspiration. I feel no drive from seeing the wretched enjoy the same level, I truly have nothing and deserve nothing so I am content with my return. I hate myself as society does. I want to be simple, I want to not care and accept my fate, I want to be content but i just cannot. It is not pretentiousness wanting to be cool, or to be real, or whatever the fuck, it is just me wanting to be be me. why cant I be me? I don't even know who me is anyway, in retrospect. I am just a deviant of society nw. I an not an "American", I'm just some cur of society, some deviant of the underworld scraping by in some pathetic want but not through laziness, I like to work hard, I like to earn money, I like to be honorable and good, not by any standard but because that is who I am. I feel best when i work really hard and have money to help friends and others achieve, to have fun, to live and experience life at irs fullest. That is life, to live, to experienced, to be, to be ones self.. I am sttifle am suppressed.
"You're the one with the crazy piece of fruit"
I called out to you, did you hear me? You were so far away.
I thought I heard you.
I awoke in tears.
They won't stop.
A little chill in the air.
Ah, the first cool night of the season... Put on that favorite coat that has been idle since March/April or so, check the pockets and see where life had left off at that point, maybe even look back and see how much progress has been made, how much better things are:
Expired cigarette coupons
Empty Trojan box (3 pack)
Unused carpenters pencil
One hitter in plastic bag w/trident gum
78 cents in change
Checkbook (one used)
Non-functioning bic
1 2" screw
So everything's the same.. Fuck...
You
I just ate chicken from a can that was donated to a pantry for poor people (expired?) which is wher I got it. I feel like shit on so many levels, from within physically and mentally. I have nothing, I missed everything, I miss everything. I never thought I'd be here even when I imagined my worst case scenerios as a youth, I expected to at least find contentment in simplistic levels of life or "getting by". I am an ultimate failure beyond any measure of others or society, beyond a comparison to peers or even globally, I'm a waste of myself, a stupid nothing with none to offer, no potentially idiot savant or brilliant suppressed entity, just literally nothing for no reason. There is small amounts of fight left in me but very, very little hope or reason. I hate life, love and existence, I don't hate the world like an angst teen of the 90's, but I certainly hate my world, which I apart tilt created and control, I made myself, I hate myself. There is nothing left of me. Potential is a strange word, dreams are literally such, hope is like masturbation, I'm so broken, in so many pieces, in such drastic measurements, in such emptiness. Convince me otherwise temporarily as I do myself, once you or I get off opinions will change. Reality will come back and prevail, control and show itself proudly.
I'm sick
So sick
Of everything, from everything, as a result of natural flow and life.
It is.
Nevermind
I thought I found love but then I dropped it, I don't know where it went, it might have rolled under the fridge... Fuck it...
Now
I really want to start my life. I have so many visions and ideas. I need a partner though, I'd hate to admit. I think I may have one but it's not in stone. I'm lost with only an "idea" of what I want and must do. Things may implode once again and collapse but could equally blossom and explode in a vibrant glow of hope and destined happiness. It's one or the other...
I'm lost.
I do not know my next move. I'm a mess but with a vague plan. I have dreams with equal nightmares along side. My heart is barely a factor yet should be the drive.
I know nothing.
I've ruined everything.
Life could be wondrous.
My name is rubbish.
Help and I will please you.
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