visionary loser

an alternative to ennui

Tag Archives: anger

I’m much better now

I realize I have no one. I lost my best friend when I ripped out his heart and fed it to the wolf. I keep thinking the wolf is domesticated and won’t hurt me. But the creature snarls every time I get too close. At 12:10AM I have no one but myself. And she’s poor company.

On December 30 you told me you were thinking about me. On January 24 you didn’t recognize my number. On February 10 you messaged me for the last time. It’s June and you don’t answer me. Ever. I wish you could see me. Maybe then you’d care. Sean, I think I’m going crazy.

I’ll never fight with you again. I’ll get a noose tattooed around my neck. The more we fight, the more knots it acquires. So that when it looks tight and thick, I’ll have chocked myself into being good.

 

Creative Integrity

Creatively jacking each other off,

I saw them demonize the intellectual –

the rational, the sane.

All that matters is Art,

and with that comes suffering

Only from darkness can creativity reign supreme.

 

The paintbrush caresses the canvas,

The pen strokes the paper,

all trying to get each other off.

These phallic instruments clutched tightly in clenched fists,

Vigorously pumping away

and what comes is —

 

What fucked up / sad / insecure place does this stem from?

To speak on things which you don’t understand.

 

Creative merit isn’t doled out by those with rough hands,

Nor by those with degrees,

it comes from people who want to do it.

Almost anything can be Art,

but it all boils down to intent –

 

why have you the right to express your contemptuousness

on what an individual finds valid and valuable

to tell a story about.

 

We set ourselves on fire

A brazen, blazing passion

igniting such codependency

that they burned all the same.

By stoking this love

it had become as volatile as an inferno

threatening too much, they ended it.

Naughty little rendezvous

in the embers of what was

but ultimately, it needed to be tamed.

Put out before it devoured too much

for it had

it consumed his heart.

Fiery tempers and hot words

a jealousy that bloomed

and turned to ash.

They built a pyre

to sacrifice such sweet nostalgia

leaving behind an echo of incandescence.

Now he’s drowning his sorrows at the bottom of a bottle

swimming through salt and gasoline

such fervent ill-thoughts.

He lights a cigarette

and watches the smoke twist and dance –

There’s no extinguishing this bond.

Saturday Night Ignored

That’s what he titled his own shit.

Fuck that.

Fuck this feeling –

this angry knot in my stomach making me sick.

Not able to eat or sleep.

She said I looked like a ghost.

A ghost of a person, not even a ghost of myself.

I hate this, but I love him…

he doesn’t believe me.

Or maybe he does and just doesn’t want to admit that he doesn’t feel the same way.

That maybe he’s a lying piece of manipulative shit who tells me he loves me and makes me feel ‘good’ but is actually selfish –

just fiends attention.

No shit.

You can’t love love two things at once.

It’s fucking impossible.

And if you do, you’re lying to yourself

desperate to keep this warm feeling around because you’re scared of what lies outside.

Scared to be alone.

Scared to run to someone in the hopes of rekindling that feeling, knowing that you don’t feel the same.

Fuck love. Fuck life. Fuck fucking.

My body is nothing.

My mind doesn’t need this shit.

My body craves it because I’ve been feeding it for years.

But before then, when I knew (no) better, I didn’t need this.

I needed no one.

It was lonely and sad,

But it was deserved.

I deserve nothing.

THAT is the only lesson I will ever receive.

My purpose is to be for others.

No fucking way will they allow me to be for myself.

And I wanna say

FUCK IT

But I’m scared.

I’m still so tied up in this mundane, human bullshit.

I feel too much to say so.

I want to reach that point where I no longer feel.

Or do I?

I continuously contradict myself because I know nothing.

He knows nothing.

We are nothing.

but mainly me