We.

Running on no sleep is horrible.I can’t shut my brain up.Reminds me of what I have lost…add lib…to fade…fade….fade…please fade…why won’t it….

Stress robs me of sleep and appetite.It strips the flesh from my sad old corpse.A week ago I couldn’t see my hipbones.Now they enter the room before I do.My rings loose on my fingers.My face a fetching shade of holocaust.

Ah! the rigors of loss.

It’s cold here and my joints hurt.Running? I should get a fucking medal for it.Who am I kidding here? My life is a polish fire drill. I write lists to remind me to check other lists because if I don’t spring out of bed as soon as I wake up my day is cactus. I’m not joking.

But I wish that I was.

I have a costume fitting on Friday  for a film clip that I am gonna be in at the end of the month. Be still my battered ego. Nice to know that I still get thought of for such cool tomfoolery. Got sent the brief the other day.It involves alot of blood and a strobe light.Kinda sounds like a Butthole Surfers gig.I think intestines were mentioned as well. Also have another show booked. I make myself do things,force myself to accept session work,clips,gigs,whatever, because the truth of the matter is that I don’t want to do a goddamn thing.That is why my infrastructure is so brutal.I have got to keep my mind off my mind or I am dead.

Literally.

It’s that simple.

As a long term game plan this is probably not to bright but its all I have got right now so fuck it.

You know ,there has got to be a stature of limitations on heartbreak. And if there isn’t there bloody well should be.I should google it.You never know.Well,I guess you do.You seem to have found it.Good luck with that.

( i am with you even when we are apart .are you? really?)

What does it take to heal.?All these hairline cracks all over my surface like old lacquer.Holds up fine from a distance but don’t look to close.

I miss “We”. I miss the unit,I miss my best mate.Milo sings it like it is. I am so lame. I used to write all of our text conversations in my journal.In two different colored pens. Usually glitter.I know,I know,ok??  This was what happened when you shone your light on my super uncool self. I used to imagine what you would have been like at school. I would have written your name on my jeans for sure. You wouldn’t have known I was alive.

You made me feel like I had won the lottery of love. I used to wonder when the hidden cameras would be revealed and everyone would start laughing at me. Kind of like Steven King’s “Carrie” but without the pig blood.

What I’m trying to say is that it felt to good to be true.

Guess it was. Bummed that I don’t have telekinesis though.That would take the edge off the hurt quite nicely.

This is what not going anywhere fast looks like. Repetition.This is the prisoners walking around the prayer wheel in “The Midnight Express”.What do you think?  Me? I avoid thinking like I avoid life but it hunts,hunts,hunts me.

Fantasies involve violence. The prey tuning on the hunter.

But it’s too much effort.

Revenge is like a forest remember? Hard to remember where you came in and easy to get lost in ( Thank you Mr Tarantino )

I gotta pull myself clear and remember the truth of the matter.

Its you and she.

No more “We”

I am no longer a plural. I sure as hell can’t be bothered being a verb.Just a big voice in a collection of bones and diminishing flesh.

Whatever’s clever,isn’t that right?

Clever?

Well ,to paraphrase Mr Robert Zimmerman “It ain’t me babe,it ain’t me…..”