crawling toward nothing

January 8, 2007 – 6:54 pm

I’m on mushrooms. I can feel the anticipation running through my veins…but there is nothing. I have intense feelings of wanting to focus on something mundane. There is energy but where is the story man? I want to let go but I don’t know how and it’s killing me. I’m so fake yet so real. I’m so helpless yet so inspired. Sometimes I feel like I could fit the devil inside my brain and other days I can’t be bothered to get out of bed.

This is useless. I haven’t found it yet but it’s coming on. We’ll see. Maybe it will take years.

I must bleed for this. Crack. Face the truth about my own isolation. Come to terms. Set the world on fire in my own mind because it’s not going to do it for me.

I ordered some chinese food from down the street. I hope it will help the mushrooms fade. It was a stupid dabble in insanity. The endless hope to fuck. Reverse my train of thought into something more productive. The greats always got to fuck. I guess that’s why I’m not among them…see, the difference here is that you get to fuck nothing at all. It’s not romantic self-indulgence here. It’s the truth about a small man in a big town.

Hell ain’t got nothin’ on being alone. Biblical scholars and their attempts to describe the worst place imaginable…it’s a joke. Hell ain’t got nothin’ on being alone in a city full of people.

Maybe I could write about real things instead of this bullshit cry me a river slop.

On Mushrooms
I can fit the devil
inside my brain.
I cannot be bothered
to get out of bed.

Order Chinese food,
down the street —
helps the mushrooms fade,
dabble in insanity.
An End less
hope to fuck.

It’s not romantic self-indulgence

It’s the truth of a small man
in a big town.

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