too
late, i found it
"if we let anybody in there,
it wouldn't be a place"
- george carlin
Lamenting about limbo, and wanting to get back there. Lamenting about doing
that. But never lamenting about being there. That's where it is, again. It
sucks, that's why I love it. It's a black hole. Only problem is, I can escape.
Not for lack of not trying. I spaghettify through the singularity. A queasy
feeling of easy failure, a flavour that resonates with the tongue. I'm chewing
cashews to eschew the taste of failure.
Four more times. You won't feel a thing. Almost there. Desperate, the
desperation circuits, the neurons that must keep firing, after the brain is
switched on, that switch, that silly switch, the stupid switch. Belief in free
will. No choice in the matter. Justifying the inexorable decision. If it's a
disease, then I'm sick. But I can hold it in. Keep it inside. Keep it in the
Kosmic K Family. Taste the toxins, wear the toxins, cigarettes inside pimples,
stallagmiting out of my torso as fully formed sores, ripe for the plucking.
Tastes like chicken. Keep it warm, even when it's ice cold. Pretend it's warm.
Cause it will be warm, again, for real, for a real eternal moment, a memory
that still resonates, outside the laser grooves, outside the mind.
There's methods, there's Maher, there's cashews. There's not eschewing sentence
case tonight. There's serious jesters screaming at me, from most angles, but by
no means all.
Thinking about an afterparty I dragged myself to, solo, back when I couldn't
talk to girls, back when I couldn't take pills, back when I could say no. Ended
up somehow satisfied, alone again, in the dregs of the night, and my mind, a
confluence of garbage, happy in a depressed sort of way, before I took pills to
deal with that, before I'd had many bad relationships, as opposed to just one.
Wow, sure was a preamble. Well the preamble was ample. Cause now I'm staggering
around the gardens, tumbling into the plants. Well, that's what happens when
planes interact. Clumbsiness. I could caress those plants in my mind. I think I
did. I just remembered. Maybe there was a point to it. But it's itch and
delirium right now for some reason. Weird Sun. Colonel Cockblock tricked Major
Mustard into accepting the position. Wow. Who'd have seen that? But from a
certain angle, it's alright. And nevermind. Just go your own sweet way. Sway,
with your hand frothing on the fountain's case. I've got tools for scaffolding
that further. Well then. What what.
old time itches - i don't quite understand
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