“I said goodbye again
sucking up all that was left of her into the
little that was left of
me. I said, ‘don’t look for me again. fuck it.
we are all lost. goodbye, goodbye.”
― Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
(: I’m well. Inconsiderately well, indeed. Been working myself enough lately to make up for the last 3 years of meandering amongst loved ones. Eventually ..I shall wander your way once more, with good reason to light up and laugh off the lost time.
“you boys can keep your virgins
give me hot old women in high heels
with asses that forgot to get old.”
― Charles Bukowski
“It was true that I didn’t have much ambition, but there ought to be a place for people without ambition, I mean a better place than the one usually reserved. How in the hell could a man enjoy being awakened at 6:30 a.m. by an alarm clock, leap out of bed, dress, force-feed, shit, piss, brush teeth and hair, and fight traffic to get to a place where essentially you made lots of money for somebody else and were asked to be grateful for the opportunity to do so?”
― Charles Bukowski
“If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery—isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you’ll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you’re going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It’s the only good fight there is.”
― Charles Bukowski, Factotum
Oh dear me,
blame yourself. Even if it doesn’t help. This is prime post-dramatic stress time for you. Always seeing everyone for their faults and feeling as if all you do… is in resentment of the choices that were made for you. It’s all and nothing you’re making it out to be. You aren’t helplessly headed through a gateway of drugs and you aren’t hopelessly in love with a thug’s over-influenced younger brother. Learn your lessons with both, if you’d like, but eventually you’ll get the impression that you’re better off on your own wherever you decide to go. Don’t come back to where you left off and stop starting over.
If you plan to set yourself apart, stick to it. Stop trying so hard to show your Love to everyone who shows you some form of the Word. Ever occur to you…they might be around to see what you’ll do next, not what you do best, which so happens to be your worst trait? Giving up on everything’s a given. Take your time. Don’t cross the lines you plan to erase or trace back. Analyze yourself every so often over some good chi and tea. Don’t be condescending as you could be understanding. Planning’s useless if it all happens for a reason, but reading this could change everything. You don’t have any regrets, and neither do I. Guess we don’t let anything effect us in this ‘Live and let Live’ mindset, but don’t forget that Love does exist. Learn to Trust your instincts and Love your own existence before you lose your mind and everything with it.
p.s. Acid is one Hell of a trip you should never take. You may never come back. DMT seems pretty tempting, but I’m sure there’ll be plenty of dieties to see in death. Make memories and move hearts. Make sure those memories are coming from the heart. You’ll ramble on through life about nonsense that I’m sure someone like you will read.
you’ve become so
damaged, that when
someone wants to
give you what you
you have no idea
how to respond.
You became delusional, not used to roses and holding onto more than the words offered so often, and lost in translation.
Rock bottom has a smooth paving, erosions of the hopeless, the most grounded you’ve ever gotten, you gave in and to be uplifted by gifts, with wishful thinking wisping you away once more, you’re floored by a fear of heights.
The irony weighted with burdens of pleasure and guilt, the undeserving seclusion, a wall built to keep disappointment from expectations… awakening. Awaiting….all your time spent escaping patience instead of embracing the inevitable [verb]al living - if these words won’t hold meaning, [act] as if they might and make your way through life. The curtains will close one day, to be grounded once more, ever than before.
This submission isn’t a form of sympathy seeking - post shady, deceitful acts of self-seclusion in all attempts to save myself from the anxieties of what seems was and still is a high-strung, self-inflicted social disorder. There was a time when I was the off-centered source of attention deficit comfort. Meaning…not much, but everything was for kicks in giggles back then. Surrounded by sincere smiles, my innocence soaked it all in, couldn’t get enough of their interest in what my guess is…the improvised way of life. One word to the next step and caution in all colors of my windswept hair. Spontaneous and spunky soon met suspicious and flaky. Fault lies deep in thoughts of some parallel paranoia. For a while, the two worlds were one, and things were disregarded rather than differentiated. I was determined to elude my own presence and perhaps live in my past, somehow. Anything was possible for the future, and for worse is where the sudden urges headed. And resurfaced. Several times for the past few years. Circles, avoiding the square roots because I couldn’t get grounded. Secret gardens around every corner and pardon my existence, shifty, listless, either missing the point or you’re making blunt of every sharp tongue. Watch what you say and hear how I see it. It is what it isn’t, yet no convincing the see-it-to-believe-it religion I’d adopted. Maybe it’s my own demons whispering and screaming on the other side of this wall, but I’ve decided that maybe solitude is fortitude, regardless of the morbid attitude that’s taking over what once was…
Can’t say I’m sorry, when all my disappointments were deliberate. Stick it out, I should’ve. It’s the expectations I’ve placed on myself that lead me to wander. I’ll admit…confrontations and commitments are the specific source of my ineptitude to socialize. Things aren’t fun and games when you’re being fed from someone else’s plate, because you can’t afford your own. Not so much shame as it is a dark, undeserving denial. Doing all that I could to see their doubt instead of giving them faith. Not believing in myself has summoned this solemn sort of sullen someone I’ve become. A ghost, to say the least. Come and go with unfinished business in my wake and terrors, in my sleep.
A pity. Passed opportunities with pathetic psychological excuses I still can’t control myself, wasting potential and pages on recycled ideas and ideals and Dear reader, I don’t ever plan to publish this for either of our pleasure, but once upon this page…there was a mark. My words.