untitled

| September 28th, 1997

whiskey tainted hours spent at bars . . . literally spent i wait like so much spare change for someone to pick me up . . . hoping they won’t drag me around the world….

divinity in a nutshell – god’s spine is snapped and he shouts out, “Christ” – but he has fled . . . he runs down all the back alleys of your mind and hides within the sanctuary of the broken down dreams and lack of direction . . . he haunts and hunts you down like a vicious wolf he hunts and tries to kill but knows he cannot . . . for he is not isis and only she can be the one . . . i hide from her and wait for Death . . . she is more my type you see . . . she would look at me with her infinite eyes and say, “it’s time to go, no . . . don’t worry . . . i’ll take you there” and she would hold my hand and i would truly know the sanctity of dreams and of holding the hand of a goddess who is leading you to her realm where she will put you away into the pastures to roam free . . .

the dull tainted hours pass me like a lover . . . i watch her go and see her trailing my life behind her on a chain. i try to kill her in infinite sadness i strike at her and hate her . . . i show her the way to the room with the interrogators –   they’ll get her to talk. to entertain me once again. to let me out from under these bricks that seem to be pulling me down . . . allowing me to drown.   will you let them?   close your eyes and look at me for the first time and answer me – will you let me fall from where you have put me? down to the lions and the fiery pits of hell . . . down to where everything real is plastic and crimson – shining in this dimly lit room.   down to where we hide the bottles and all the memories that flow from us like butterflies . . . down to where hurt is true, pain – we know it is real, but nothing else . . . nothing more . . .

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