Log in

No account? Create an account
09 September 2015 @ 06:18 pm
looking down that sure abyss of my expectations in light of my allocated resources : looking at my bank account in light of my material requirements : looking at my emotional limitations in light of my expenditures

and the wolves bare their teeth, licking and breathing: and somewhere in the distance, my resolve gives way: and tangles and snares of surrendered hair cloud up the apartment corners and the moon and the moon: and the moon and the moon: mooning it out, mooning it over, some harmless-seeming glint in the deepening night sky

moral relativism and madness (either/or/and) and rage,
rage against the dying of the light

or if the light’s already dead (like any of us, i struggle with the consequences of my lesser behaviors)
rage against something else.
bathmats often seem frustrating.
and my drinking-age bathrobe has developed an incredibly nasty and persistent smell at the collar.
i presume this indicates something about my diminishing value to humanity, but whatever, times are rough everywhere.

i'd really like to know what to do with all this, if nobody else wants it. not that i have any interest in giving it up, i mean, you just try, just go ahead and try.



that things become distinctive to us most through the process of injury and entropy: that what we love is manifest through the process of its destruction.

i suppose what people love about me is intrinsically tied to my convoluted uncertainties, my weird answers for things, uneven and stumbling, never quite sure where or what i am i am: but there's nobody else like me i mean go ahead and try to find another one out there like me (please?)

though it could be there are viable, healthy, and desirable reasons for this.

maybe i am my shadow as i am. maybe it's the light parts i am being challenged to seek out. or maybe my shadow is a raving devouring delusional slut bitch that eats the still beating hearts of her prey, howls the night to gouges and beds on a mound of cracked skulls.

"it doesn't necessarily have to be something terrible,” one of my witch sisters promised. “your shadow might just be a part of yourself that needs attention."


the live heart devouring cracked skull bedding part.

mood: guh.
music: voice of eye - improvisation 1: absynthe dreams in aspic