Old House

I feel I could snap my spine in two if I leaned back in a certain way. Applying just the right amount of pressure. I can even hear it. Feel it break. Not the pain, that will always be new to me. As those retarded creatures that are unable to learn by repetition. But I can feel it, as if it weren't my bones but someone else's held firmly by my hands. I can feel it break on my palms. It's such a pleasant feeling. Makes me so aware of life. Reminds me of all that is happening when nothing in fact is. Everything is so exaggerated. Every sound amplified. Like in a big old country mansion, late at night, the house becomes alive. It was of course always living and breathing but only then are you awaken to it. And you must embrace it. As I do. Drink all this life inside life itself. The pounding of the heart, the breathing, the slight hindrance in your breathing pipes provoking the air to whisper a very low almost silent tune through your mouth or nose. I hear my bones wearing out. One more cell dying. My skin recycling itself. I hear it all. I hear me whole. I am alive.

The Playhouse

She was thinking of me I'm sure. Now she'll put on a different act, a different mask but I can still see the incriminating glow in her eye. I'm sure she was thinking of me.

"What're you doing here?"

"I just thought I'd pay you a little visit"

Oh don't turn your back..

"I told you not to come."

"Yeah I know but I.."

"You can go now."

"Doll come on.."

Don't make me chase you, it's getting ridiculous.

"Close the door when you leave. And make it soon."

"Doll.."

"Goodbye James."

Oh get out of the bathroom. She thinks I'm gonna leave? She's hiding from me? Lord..

"Please, will you just come out so we can talk?"

I need to look her in the eyes to do this. I can't talk through a door. I need to know what she feels as every single one of my words crashes in her ears. I need to see it.

"Doll just come talk to me for a minute! Please!"

"I'm in the fucking bathroom James. Get the fuck out! There's nothing to talk about!"

"There is, you know there is! I messed up! I know!"

"Go away!!"

"I can't! You know I can't!! We deserve, you deserve to have me fighting for you! Fight for us!!"

"Oh shut up!"

"You deserve it!! You know.."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!!"

Fuck.. I can only feel hate. Nothing more. This isn't good.

On the other hand, hate is strong. And that's good. Strong feelings are good.

"I'm sorry... I can't go..."

Door opening! Door opening! Her long fingers, her soft white arm with the tiny almost invisible yellow hairs only I know are there, her round sweet breasts, the flesh on her neck, her beautiful face.

"Quit the wimpy crap James. I've seen you put on your sorrowful bullshit show before."

Fuck. She's cold. And running off again. Come here. Look at me damnit!

"I love you! Look at me!! Just look at me! You know this is true!!"

Stop. Turn to me. Yes. Yes! Come to me! Yes!!

"James, listen hard, even if you do.."

"I do! You know I do! Look into my eyes!!"

"Listen! Even if you do, I don't give a shit! Understand? I don't care!"

"That's not true. You're just afraid of trusting me again. I know.."

I've never seen her like this. This coldness in her eyes. I can't get through that ice vest. Fuck!

"James, I'm calmly asking you to leave. So please leave now. Don't make me call the police."

FUCK!!

"Please leave now."

WHORE!!!

FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!

She closed the door behind me. Didn't even give time to NOT look back at her. FUCK!! What am I gonna do? This is bullshit. She couldn't be over me that quick. I've screwed up before and I fixed it. I can have her back. I know I can. Bitch. I can have her on her knees. Me looking down on her. As I have done before. With the power to crush her. I can do it. I want her crawling beneath my foot. I need her there. Right there.

No Sir

you don't have to be kind,
respect your killings

love is not required
a ring is quite enough

don't need to stretch out
your soft virginal hand

with blood of men
to help, but you can

and you can seek the sadness
behind her glazed eyes

but it's not your job to care
you say

and you say it right
true and honest

teeth were not made to smile

Cleavage 2

I don't know how right Chuck Barris really was. In this day and age most people's dreams and hopes wouldn't go as high as obtaining the damn refrigerator so in fact the show would only end when the greed filled their sick little minds and they'd just start shooting each..

"Watch out!!"

Fucking colourblind wanker. RED!! It's red!!
Are you late for your asshole appointment?! What and you still have to go by the idiot shop to get a stupidity refill?!

Anyway, they'd just end up shooting each other for the god damn fridge.

I wonder if people actually had all those things they think are the vessels to happiness they would finally be forced to confront their true life dilemmas. If all their shallow material cravings were satiated would they focus on truly important issues? Probably not. They would just go all Kurt Cobain on their own arses. Fucking losers.

Look at that.

"..like, I'm just saying maybe we should be careful and shit with how we talk to him and I was like, fuck you, who are you to tell me what to do? You know? Total bitch.. Who does she think she is?"

"Yeah I never really liked her."

"Mind her own business, little bitch. You know? We should like, do some.."

Blah blah blah teenage wasteland. I guess we're at a stage where it's twenteen and even thirtyteen sometimes.

Ah and of course..

"Tap tap tap.. haha!!"

"Haha you want to tap that?"

"Haha.."

Depressing little humanoids.

Oh, I should go shopping. I've nothing to cook. I should cook more often. Or just eat a massive McCoronary Thrombosis and get it over with. I'd waste less time. Less time thinking. Less time depressing. Less time hating everyone. Hating me most of the time. Less time dreaming about a great future, with meaning. One more time with feeling. Ha..

It's just little changes. The smallest ones. The ones you know will get you on track. But you're just focused on that finishing line. The damn clouds. You can't jump from here. You have to go step after step after step after step after step. That's the only way to get there. But those first steps seem so unimportant, so meaningless that you can not gather the right amount of will power to just do it! Fuck, just do it! Get on track!

Oh fuck it.

"Evening. Yeah, just the large fries."

"No pizza boss?"

"Yeah you know what.. Three slices."

Cleavage

Today is hell. Everyone's so giddy, delighted with the weather. This ability to find joy in the simplest things is both our hope and doom. Makes life a bit more bearable and turns our head away from the big infinite tragedy. Even while slowly climbing down to the abyss we manage to stop and smell the flowers.

"It's a great day hm? I might be going for a walk or something. I don't really have anything to do you know?"

So obvious aren't you? I find myself despising your ignorance. Your bursting breasts sicken me. Me admiring them sickens me the most. How pathetic you are. I've overlooked your existence ever since the first day I met you. So why would you be even slightly more hopeful today? Do you think it's your sex that will blossom in me a longing for you and your dull ways?

"Yeah, you should. It's a nice day for walking."

Go, go, go.

"Right, yeah, I mean, you wanna come? We could go and drink something. Somewhere."

Maybe if I ignore her she'll go away. It works with small children. And dogs.

"Or maybe, you know, there's a great terrace in my building. Only I have the key for some reason."

If only your sense of smell was as acute as those of dogs you'd have smelt my indifference. You'd in fact be nauseous by now seeing as I reek of it.

"We could go there and, you know, I could get some drinks and we'd just sit. And talk. Or, you know, whatever we felt like doing."

And then we would fuck each other senseless and you'd cling on me for the rest of my life and I'd feel dirty as dirty can be. Yeah, I get it sugar. Give up.

"It'd be nice, I think."

"Yeah, I don't think that's gonna work. I've got some stuff to do today."

"Oh come on, what stuff? It'd be great, really. I have beer in the fridge and all. We can get some pizza or something."

What are you doing? Yes, I've seen your breasts. Thank you, please remove them from under my nose. And let go of my hand. You little obnoxious creature. Go befriend a shower head or something.

"Yeah, sorry Martha, maybe some other time."

Look how she sulks now. How ridiculous can one person really be I wonder.

"Oh. That's a shame. Ok then. Well, if you change your mind you know where to find me."

"Yeah, definitely."

"Great, see you later then, maybe!"

Oh god, how can you be so impervious to aversion?! For fuck's sake. Who would be hopeful after something like that? Who would leave this conversation with a detestable little giggle and a cutesy whimsy wave of the hand?

Look at her going, so happy, blushing as a row of losers admire her like a fat bastard at a McDonald's factory. Revolting piece of meat. So easy to please. Proud of her nothings. Her cheap thrills. Flaunting her insignificance in tones of pink and yellow. If you were even just slightly aware of how pathetic your existence really is you would need no other instruments or pills because you'd burst yourself in flames right then and there. But you probably would just dismiss it all with a laugh and think I was kidding and come on to me a little bit more. Why do I even care about these flawless excrement specimens? A wasted struggle it seems sometimes. Obliviousness is the easy way indeed.

You.

All of your majesty.

All of your majesty.

All of your majesty.

Now is nothing but loss. Waves of vultures drawing near but always far. And we stand between you and them. But it's no longer you. It's just the cloak, the long beautiful golden vest of kings. Growing colder and colder. Not all the warmth from our blushed cheeks could warm it now. Not all our caresses. Not all our warm tears. We're here just to stop them from devouring you. What is not you. No longer. But still you, the you we can touch and see and cry for. Feel pain and despair. That YOU lies there among the black widows. That YOU is gone.

You live regardless.

Packing

Life has hanged for long before this dream. But I held control over it. I pushed on one side or the other to keep it balancing. Always from side to side. Sometimes a glimpse of moving forward. But I always knew it was a dream inside a dream. Never took me long to gather the hints and make up the truth.

There's no control now. And the dream has faded away as if it never even existed. It was only just slightly burning and I offered my oxygen as fuel for it to grow. To grow back to it's previous glorious shape. But there's no control now for this is not a dream. And life hangs indeed but by a thread. And long have I stood face to face with it and mocked it's fragility. Enjoyed not living for it meant not dying. Deception is the cave I've hidden myself in for years and ever.

Life waltzes in slow motion around me. Around a shape that resembles in some ways a person. What am I besides a. Besides a. I'm a. Just a. Nothing more then a.

nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing

Socks. Boxers. Don't need a razor. My black jumper's dirty with toothpaste. Need to wash that. I need, god what do I need? I need jeans that don't have fucking holes in them. He would laugh at it though. Maybe a button shirt or two. Which jacket? I don't even wear the black one that much. Books, perhaps. I don't know if I'll be in the mood for it. Although, Sartre has always been good at capturing my attention and it would be good to think about something else. Fucking chicken. I don't know. What do you pack for a funeral anyway?