Six months. 31.5 times six. 93 days? I’m not particularly mathematically adept at this time. Nevertheless and irregardless– off the wagon. First, it was the party for a friend of my lover. Strong through an hour, maybe two. Then anxious. Then was asked to get a drink for her. Hers were weak. I nod and smile. To the bar. Drop a twenty. “Double vodka.” It was downhill from there. Down into “Proud Mary in the...
Just a glimpse of her face inside Super Flea, but I was sure I’d seen her before. I checked the mobile/locals features on my phone’s PoF and OKC apps, but got nothing. Oh well. I was leaving, anyway. I’d sold off this week’s portion of my childhood to pay for the mistakes of my adulthood, and there isn’t much left there I haven’t seen. There she is in the parking lot walking ahead of me, so I call out, “Hey,...
Some fat fuck entitled his periodic article in The Times-West Virginian as such. No matter. There is so much I cannot say, for it would be printed out and delivered unto “Justice” to keep me from the children who so desperately need my guidance — a firm hand leading them toward some happiness their father could never achieve and their mother cannot deliver. That is enough to be said of Herl. You are familiar with the history, I take it?...
Through the fish-eyed lens of tear-stained eyes, I can barely define the shape of this moment in time. And far from flying high in clear blue skies, I’m spiraling down to the hole in the ground where I hide. If you negotiate the mine-fields of my mind … … and if you beat the dogs and cheat the cold electronic eye … … and if you make it past the shotguns in the hall? Dial the combination. Open the priest-hole....
All of you. All your fear. I lie, inasmuch as I don’t know the truth. Inasmuch as everything I say is some dialogue of script I’ve written moments before, seconds before, split microframes of life before speaking it. And I mean it. At the time. But it all fades. Truth is ephemeral. It’s a whisper misheard and repeated with mutations and twisted with prerogatives and turned into hateful resentment. I’m drinking now, and I’m posting publicly. Now, I know this...
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5 responses to “Fuck You”
It’s useless and pointless. Frost kills the delicate flowers that bear the fruit that feed and nurture.
“There’s only one language we all understand, and that’s the rage and tears that spill from an honest heart.”
It’s taken 6 years of being with the same person in therapy, but this is all I now do there. She knows better than to say anything. Damning everything in sight and mind and wailing. It’s the most fucking real thing I can do.
Went 2 my talky Dr. He’s getting me help. Insisting on lithium… Madness. I will always be here.
Lithium! At least you’re being treated by the title of a Nirvana song.
We will see… So much to sort through.. flailing. The quest for the grail all but abandoned. 5 years… That’s when the kids will be ready. 5 years of truthseeking and soul searching… I don’t think I love him… Not the way I should. I’m going to try to find that again. Maybe the lithium will help numb me… Maybe I’m already too numb.