Archive for February 1st, 2008

Holy Father in Hell, bring death now

Friday, 1 February 2008

         Jesus Fucking Christ this is Day One of my torment. The last chance to see her would’ve been today but fate said otherwise.
I’ll probably never see her again.
Holy fuck I don’t know what to do next, work out or smoke pot. This is the worst pain anyone faces. How did this happen? I wish I was dead. Life is burned ash and seaweed. Holy shit, this is what the damned suffer. Separation.
I’ve been here before. Nothing makes sense. Objects appear and reappear, you look at them and keep walking not knowing the names of anything. You are a suicide bomber with no trigger, a fluid zombie EXCEPT for the pain. Holy Father in Hell, I’ll take a plate of pancreatic cancer now. Holy fuck I wish I was dead. This pain better pass fast.

But it won’t. It’s only Day One.

heart in the shitter

Friday, 1 February 2008

you swear never to feel anything again
and for awhile it works,
you find an equilibrium where nothing too painful happens,
nothing too joyful either.

you make pledges to phantoms,
burn off angry emails,
eat chocolate,
smile sadly in the dark,
swear against love like
Jews against the Holocaust: Never Again.

you’re a damned fool.

and you know it.

there’s always one more to catch the eye
to make the heart race rabbits
to make you lie in bed and imagine something that never existed before
between two people…

in your head it’s already you and her against the world
in your head it’s already perfect
in your head you’ve felt complete
you just have to
start it
in your waking hours

it doesn’t happen.

the reasons don’t matter and never do.

now you feel the fish hook in your mouth
the burn in the ash
the sour milk
the tons of ocean crushing against the diving bell of your little heart.

you feel very, very small.

after that the smallest thought of her is a paper cut.
your own brain chases you like a hive of angry bees.

you cry quietly in your blood
too ashamed to face your failed desire.

over and over your internal organs are
removed, steamed, frozen, pressed,
every waking second of day.

time barely heals you.

it doesn’t heal at all.

bitterness gains interest
you get older
you swear again on shattered spine
in front of the legion
of past pride:

Never again!
Never again!
no one shall have my heart
ever again!

ha. ha. ha.

heart in the shitter
pain of dying without the peace of death.

away you go.

Fuckfield #33

Friday, 1 February 2008