grendel_kin

below is what happens when i taste a little of the drinky-drinky and get to typing-typing.........


to go back to NYC?

to surrender and return to my island home?

to stay empty and win more adoration?

to keep fighting despite the bloodloss?

to remember why i began to love her?

to find that one that i had let go?

to find that one that i had lost?

to find a moment alone where i laugh all the fires down?

to wipe away all the simple illusions?

to resurrect my broke-down spirituality with something besides the firewater?

to look around and admit that i'm a failure, living in a twisted lie of progress?

to look at the cup as half full?

to come to terms with the fact that it is my body and i'm just gonna have to live in it?

to walk a route outside of humorous self-hate?

........what next?

come on, whomever it is that i type for here, what's next?

all of you self stylized crack fuckers keep laughing thru your blue lipped snarls. see if i stop. see if i fall. see if the majority of me runs away, while the minority kicks your ass up-ways and side-ways. go on.....count your blessings, while i send all of my anxieties on the wings of black monkeys to ass fuck you. it is never the broken man you need fear, it is the one about to break....but i am of no concern. i was manufactured poorly. no matter the type of battery or where they were placed, this one never danced to the right beat for the kiddies to be entertained for very long. fickle kids. fucking factory.


...........this started out with a question. i would ask where i went wrong, but i don't think i remember that far back.

i wasted time and now doth time waste me.......funny.