Damnable wretched deceitful cow. I spit in thine eye and curse your home, your offspring and come what may to you. You are but nothing in mine eyes as of this moment. Oh how I tried to forgive a creature such as you but it is not within me, my heart is cold and bitter from the very mention of you. You who have betrayed your brothers and sisters, who’ve laid arms against the kin and made hostile against brethren. Nothing is beneath you, stooped to a lowest level presently unknown, abominations of tact and civility. How you continue to exist in such mired, unseemly circumstances is beyond my grasp. You should be done away with in the most aggressive of manners. New punishments made to cast against you, death be too good for a slime of your magnitude. This society is gracious enough to hold your presence, but no longer. We who breathe and live in goodness and generosity, in grace and civility that has been fought for, countless blood spilt for the present state. And what do you do? You mock and deride it with your very being, your malignant growth from the womb till now has been a stain on our good graces. Your good name tarnished and rendered loathsome, unusable, disgraceful. Leave us in peace horrid spectre! None of us want to be haunted by your presence any longer, use whatever kindness still lays in your chest and be gone. Be gone.
Deception, obsession, self-doubt high voltage. Painful past blown out of proportion, just a lonely boy afraid to grow up. A bitter old man inside clanging for escape. Living both sides, internal confusion fight club. Misanthropic at one moment, sweetheart next one. Good bad and ugly all rolled into one, smoking myself, the heated breakdown wafting up. Trying to find myself through wallowing in the muck. You can’t reach the top til you hit the bottom. Sank down hard just to swallow modesty, scarfing down humble pie with the bottle. Drinking to drown out the spirits that taunt me with whispers of sin. Hushed sounds of forceful whips lashing away. Spare the rod, the spoils of war. The internal war playing itself out on the grass is greener plain. Hollow sentiments and cliches become my moth-eaten blanket. Covering myself to sleep with vicious fishes. Aria refrain on the vinyl skipping a beat. Ave Maria the slow road to take, destination unknown but still setting off. Travelling light but searching for a mate.
Blindness caught up to me. My eyes felt lifeless, incomplete, morose in their squalid useless sockets. The vestige once held up high to peruse the world around me was no more; death of the feeble pupil, a wilting iris in a wintry cave. Warm tears ran down, I felt them linger, inch by inch branching down. It was a wholly new sensation. Without the blurred and smeared visual I could sense the moistness creeping with such an intensity I could feel it go over every pore. A traveling faucet with its drip drip never ending. I stopped everything, now it was to pass getting used to this new mode of being. I felt around as I walked, trying to orient myself. The smells around me were harsher, vivid images floated into my head in sharp bursts that collided and confused me. I had trouble figuring out what was where and how to move about. I took baby steps forward, my arms waving in front of me searching and searching. I felt like a lighthouse awaiting a crash. Every creak of the floor made me wince, the air conditioning whir seemed so loud, as if an amplifier were attached to a seashell and I was surrounded by the tones of the sea. I made it to the door, where to go now? How can I live like this?
I thought of all the things I would miss out on. The movies I would never see, the glory of nature, the sunsets, the park at dusk, those suicidal bunnies that run in front of your car. I would never see a woman’s smile anymore either, what was a sense of humor worth when you couldn’t see the results? I would get used to it all I’m sure but this was a worst fear come true. I had lived so much of my life enthralled by visuals, wrapped up and raptured by the sights of the world. My painting and drawing, gone, building power computers, gone, photographing nature divine, gone. A whole new set of hobbies would have to be taken up, living in the moment would require a hodgepodge of the remaining senses just to get right. This must be a dream, a nightmarish Kafkaesque situation deforming my reality, taking hold of my deepest fears and thrusting them upon me in cruel fashion to see me writhe in agony at the thought of living like this. This is sick, twisted, vileness! Cursed abominations tainting my windowless soul so that I may be as a child damaged and abused, curling into themselves and whimpering to fend off the terrors of the abrasive night. The lashing cold licking at my face, tearing pieces of my skin off to feed the wintry air. How I suffer so endlessly, so coarsely and incessantly within instances in my head. An unremitting horror encapsulated in a milisecond, time and again, again in time, the plaguing dark lurches forward. I move ahead, onward, dragging my legs as I go, an unseen barge at my feet. Ready to face a new dawn with upturned face and open ears. What else do I have left?
What am I without the ever-present, ever-consuming self-destruction I put upon myself? Annihilation, discriminating against myself, against the good within me. Counter revolution, spin me right round and end with a bloodied corpse. Kill me, eat me, bleed me, see me collapse and destroy my self. Good self down. Jekyll stomping ground, relieving pathetic me of earthly breath. Fuck the world, fuck god, fuck the sap hiding in my chest. Kill kill little rat, seek and destroy don’t let up, get. Pounce then denounce the dickless morals, the polite deceptions. Plunge that floating dagger into the proverbial Godhead. Celestial heavens bounding down the line to opened foreheads. Ethereal energy smashing, careening upon the furrowed brow. Sweat beads on porous darkened skin.
The pretty bright eyed girls with the heart-pulling smile. Played them for a while, for a while toothy grin everlasting. Selfish desires makes me snatch positivity never lasting. Suck their souls, absorb their minds, salivating off the bright eyes. The joy felt too good so I let them live in their oyster world. Shelled in but outspoken, damaged internally, struggling and shuffling to mark the outside world. Spray paint and guns, masks over hatred-soaked faces.
Not really knowing how to communicate without revealing too much. Making calculated speeches, co-ordinated revelations and half-hearted storytelling to play nice. Is it self-conscious underpinnings or sociological experiments deciphering which human I will like? Decided to stop playing the social contract but can’t stop, won’t stop, mind aching from the body count. Got bored with the hollow conversing. The “oh my God” perforating airs around me. Cloudy girders on display, no interest in climbing shafts placed by casual acquaintances. Sifting through shallow structures plunging for the depths unseen. Burden of proof placed on myself, trivial pursuits hitting puzzling wealth
—The awareness of the workings and machinations of the brain. Swirling, gliding little ones telling each other secrets not for me to hear. Sometimes they do the electric lines, other times they skip and slip. Radical rascals, grievous aftermaths of their boisterous games coupled with youthful foolishness. How long I have charged myself with training their unyielding unspeakable failures and shame for the jittering bull I become. Do they win? Do I control them or they me? it is so hard to tell when your reality is coerced by the devilish intentions and inside voices. Whispering deviance and travelling temptations sneaking through checkpoints thus diminishing good life dreams.
I dream of the different lives I can inhabit while reeling at the excitement of escaping the sporadic dullness numbing my heart. Beautiful and bizarre, the immaterial hypnotic other lives be. Melding and flowing all throughout timeless scapes. I am all characters imagined, they evolve into a melded, all-encompassing protagonist, living through all lives thrown at him from the blackened ether to satisfy the slumbering overlord. All dreamscapes follow and penetrate the not so lonely hero as he infiltrates psychological warfare and battles fearful manifestations and anxiety-ridden ghouls hiding in the day.
Did I find contentment in an empty glass? No it is nothing but sorrow and hops drained. Sweet whisky dulls pain and arduous agony, but no residual merriness. Alas more remembrance and heart-aching realities. Strife of those you love, inner turmoil that beckons to be a part of waking life, consuming the temporal experience. What fantastic treasures I would give away to enjoy the good people while they lasted on our dirt-filled plain. I ask that the brain slow down, letting me enjoy my moments and revel in joyous times with the wonderful people I pass on the darkened train ride.
The room was uneasy. Spinning, spindling, careening off its centre. Arches falling down, corners jutting and creeping into each other as the collapse played out. A play of chaos, a symphony of discordant negative space. This is the reversion that happened all around the favored party. Guilt and remorse gripped at his loose skin. Bones became heavier and started to reveal themselves against their fleshy prisons, making awful noises like the snapping of vines.
The agonized hero, weary and not there altogether, took stock of the swirling vortex surrounding him. Little time was left before a singularity occurred or whatever the medical professionals would call it. He swallowed the little blue and purple pills in his shivering hand. Down it went, he felt them travelling down the pipes and past the slowly throbbing chest. They took effect, he felt the whole room shift, colors whizzed and whurred around him, melding into each other like a Dali painting on acid. Everything was vertigo, flattening and expanding in asynchrous rhythms. His brain was following suit; a strange sensation where words lost all meaning, logic and the senses split apart and scrambled into random geometric patterns. Spilled milk on Hiroshima. Deathly cellos playing their last legs.
Then came darkness. Complete and utter darkness. The tranquility of non-existence; no more noise and confusion, no more wrenching pain or trifles. There was just a oneness of being, nothing needed to be searched out, no perception,no limitations. This was peace of a most prized kind. His universe had flatlined and recovered in a new steady state. The Singularity, a whole verse just for him. He became a sub-atomic blip on a one line reality. A nano-person with no aim or goal or course, just a speck on the minutest plain possible. What a trip!
I remember when I was in grade school, maybe grade 2 or 3, I slipped and feel down the stairs going to recess and all the kids coming down just stepped on me. It was like I wasn’t even a person, just an obstacle in their path. No manners, no decency, just animals making their way to the watering hole. I curse these people because I have a hard time forgiving certain actions. They are imprinted on my brain and in my darkest hour I recollect them like fireflies trapped in a jar.
After coming to this country, Canada, I witnessed the cruelty of children. Little hellions, fun-sized bastards with sparse moral centres. Maybe that event gave me a deeper sense of awareness, a more mature consciousness than that of my peers. I used to think a lot and contemplate life, the universe, god and all else. It’s possible that such debasing and coarse experiences bring forth enlightenment. In Buddhism life is pain and suffering and there is no escape from this. If you embrace it as a never-ending eventuality you can attain some peace or maybe even Nirvana. Smells like a corrupt spirit to me. Nevermind.
The only helpful way to deal with the past is acceptance and learning from it. There’s a lot to garner from the bad times, the focal horror points that clasp your psyche and leak out distilled bitterness. The sublime traumedy as it were. What more is there to say I do not know at this time. I dislike remembering these things over and over again, why can’t we choose which memories to repress? I guess it ain’t so bad, love is much worse.