luscious lipped ghoul of night, it's so bloody incoherent. what's the last thing you see just before you die, and is it the first thing you see when you are born, and is it that little tiny thing you see everytime the worst/best thing in your life happens to you. and is it so important you've gotta spend your entire lifetime chasing it down like it's not gonna stay, like it's gonna move around, like if you devote your whole life to finding it, lo and behold there it is. yeah, so it's the ultimate, delusional search, even worse then pretending you control your life. so you spend your life searching for it, you die, and there it is. you spend your whole life living and not searching, and there it is. oh my god, ouch, the pain, the irony. how fucking sad for you, I mean just how fucking sad. weep not bitter soul, it's just the end of your life. I've come to disdain it when you say I am not who I am. who are you, to tell me I cannot be who I am, and who am I to listen so fucking hard to you. it's all over again, little tiny patterns, you have to be strong enough to break out of them, yet first weak enough to see them. when you hit the lowest you can go at the moment, that's the most beautiful time of your life, cause no matter what, it's gonna get better.it is not the opposite to say that when you hit the highest, it is the ugliest time of your life. then you just sit back, put your feet on the proverbial coffee table, smoke your proverbial cigar, and just fucking kick back, the poets know this truth. when it's bad, it's shitty, and you write poetry they all fucking love and revere and identify with, and everyone loves you behind your back. and when you are riding high, the whiskey bottle is full, the poem sold, the flesh beside you is warm eager and willing to go, and you don't write a goddamned thing. you don't think of anything, you just kick back, and they all hate you to your face. god I love life. I'm just not partial to people, and pretenses and lies, and manipulations, and plain old fashioned I don't give a damn.
I think I'm gonna go be a poet, and a willing body.
and I'm not gonna search for the end. I'll write about that when it gets here. or hell, maybe it will be a happy moment in my life, maybe I won't write, maybe I'll go out with them all hating me.
sounds good to me.