Life sucks and then it’s over

I write vivaciously in twelve point Didot on my iPhone. Trying to silence the pounding of language in my head by getting it all out. Setting the shitful shit free so I don’t have to hear it anymore, maybe I’ll sleep tonight, maybe not. I’m sick to death of a lot of things. Sickest of feeling lost and alone. 

I’m always halfway. Halfway between homeless and stable, halfway between happiness and depression, halfway between being loved and disregarded. 

Which way is forward? I don’t know. I feel like Jon Snow, knowing nothing even when all this information is constantly berating me. Got ninety nine problems and I’m all of them. I’m stuck in a parallel universe. I’m stuck behind glass, I can see you but I can’t hear you. Must be a one way mirror because you don’t even know I’m there. 

C’est la vie

       —am I right?

I’ve got a load of washing that needs tending to, no need to split the colours because it’s all black anyway, but a delicates bag wouldn’t go astray. I’m trying with all my might to switch my thought path, take myself away to a better place. I am in love with love. I want it to envelop me and romance me onward and upward. Take all my black and brighten it with a little with colour lustre shampoo. 

Sitting in the night again, I always find myself here. Alone and in the dark but it’s not metaphorical this time. It’s my safe place, I can’t see the faces of those who pass me by and they can’t see mine. What a blessing. I can be anything in the dark. Foul ugly creature of plague and misery. The most beautiful body to ever have lived born of desire and jealousy but it’s not lit so you can’t see. And really, why should you need to? It’s not about the visual it’s about the sound. 

I’m always writing and reading, writing and creating, writing and loving. Pleasure, pain, it makes no matter. Everything is scaled and carefully measured. I just want to live and let live. I wanna move and love and linger. Prance in the sunshine, hunt in the moonlight. Love infinitely; I’m a hopeless romantic, you see. Life doesn’t have to be so complex, does it? Can I not just be and laugh even when it’s inappropriate? Have a mouthful of bourbon even though I’m not a drinker and a cigarette though I’m not a smoker, to calm my nerves? 

You know why? It’s because everything threatens to kill us. Can’t eat anything coloured blue because it might give me cancer. Can’t watch too much television because my eyes might go square. Can’t board a plane to anywhere because it might explode and fall out of the sky. Can’t walk through my own city without sanitising my hands sixty thousand times ’cause I might catch a bad case of death. But I’m not particularly afraid of dying so I’ll be a little edgey and snack on a bowl of blue m&m’s while I watch a marathon of my favourite films just inches from the monitor on a plane to god knows where without any rubbing alcohol. 

So, I’ll type and lust and wander alone with my thoughts. It’s a dangerous place and I might get lost if I’m not careful. Better not trip on my own foot and fall into some sneaky crevasse, they’re opening up all around me. 

I’ve got dinner to cook and all the ingredients are laid out with obsessive compulsiveness. Everything in its place, ready to be butchered and burnt. I don’t think I could kill a person but I sure can dice up a slab of beef real nice. I’ll sear this and sauté that until it’s steaming hot and served on the table, garnished for the sake of beauty. I am always so happy in the kitchen when I’m cooking for those who appreciate it. It’s a mode of transportation in itself. Breathe in, stir, breathe out, chop, dance, dance, dance; watch my fingers or you’ll be eating me tonight. 

It might be time to rest, doze, maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a while and see what happens. I can lucid dream so perhaps I’ll star in my own mindfuck film, this ain’t my first rodeo so I’ll get scared then save myself. Wish reality was this easy to manipulate. Wanna go somewhere? I’ll just teleport. Wanna see the bottom of the ocean? I’ll just take us down in my uncrushable yellow submarine. Wanna make out? Wait.. We can do that here and now, ha ha ha. 

Flip the light off and cosy down, better charge my phone or I’ll be bored on the train tomorrow. It’s wintertime so I’m covered in microfibre sheets and fluffy blankets. I’ll read your prose until I shut down completely and let the monster in my mind takeover. 

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