Look up, read the title, continue...
Death by Flame, random-step, godless and morally bankrupt guide to nothing.
A good friend just took her site down. Reasoning: Words hurt.
Self-incrimination is not a new concept. But now it's as simple as breathing and having a net presence. Make it a little harder, put anything down, anywhere, where someone can find it- FUCKING BANG! That's enough.
One of the worst fights of my marriage happened that way.
Nightmares are just walking daydreams for some of us.
The following is a brain implosion, please ignore....
TOUCH THIS YOU FUCK!
I fucking wish I could-
I can't, not even close.
I sit, listening to ethereal new age Indian pop on my $9.95 Sony® clock radio and wish I had a real stereo, time to be enveloped I think, covered and washed within the air of sound, but without a partner, someone to bathe with me, the thought airs to nothing, needlessly I find myself extremely needful; it's so quiet here, except when I curse my Mac or much more often, my Win95 box, CD-ROm is not in my future as is much less else, I suppose, I get tired of waiting, you know?
Spike #76 came this evening, as always I am blown away: I want to mirror her archives, in some readable accessible formats- I dare not offer, for now, forever, once upon a time...
I get to see my girls tomorrow: I am nervous, depressed, excited, unsure, hoping and sad. I'm wanting something other than what I have- a sliver of sanity, something to grasp, someone to hold onto because I know this will not come- I am needful.
I often wonder "what if...?" and stop right there, I go no further, usually, recently, I could not help myself and it was stupid; *I* am stupid. I cannot take the realities I've learned to heart, I *cannot* breathe under-water, no matter how furiously my lungs work; there is that magic at the tip of the spoon over there, I can stretch and writhe for it, yet it slips slightly out of reach, I can smell it, but not grasp, my ankles are bound in hard leather to where I am, the more I struggle, the more I bleed. The blood reminds me that I am merely less than mortal and need to learn to enjoy the cutting.
I have a total of six women swimming in my head right now.
Three of whom I will see tomorrow- unconditional love. Unconditional isn't enough. 3/4 mile distance is far too thick. Please let them know and understand that if it could be different, it would be and it will; but I am impatient- I can only claw at rock.
Three others are grown, different directions all J's- all, all...... all.
I can still balance my near empty beer on my head without spilling it- I will have one more I think; I've been bad yesterday and today, not even dark yet, my rule- but if I dont shut myself down and sleep a bit soon, it will just become unbearable.
I remember most about my lovers, the touch and taste of their lips and mouth. There are two whose flavours are still close.
For the J's cubed- I will quote myself-
"You are everywhere, and you are gone..."
There is a unique satisfaction in smelling oneself's flesh sear.
