It’s already the end of July. And I haven’t posted anything. So for the sake of giving you something new to read, I went and pulled something out of my drafts. Here are quick bite sized snippets culled from the recesses of my own deranged mind–something I wrote sometime in January, 3rd I think? Haha. Talk about lazy ass writing. Anyhow. Comment if you find me disgusting.
Aphorisms–This is for those I will leave behind. In the wake of something real, I will vanish. You won’t mind because you’re okay now. Everything, even friendship has a date of expiry. And if you are you, you will understand. I am a scribe without pen. Running out of blank spaces to stain, I feel stuck on middle ground. That means two things. One, I need a new set of rules to butcher, a new world to devour; and two, right now I don’t belong anywhere. Life is a series of long and winding departures. I’ve maxed out on this one. And leaving feels a lot like severing an arm, losing a limb, a label, a distinction. My worst fear has come to life. You were the crutch I should do without. Time for me to face the pain, the reality of solace I have long tried to escape. Obsolescence rears its head on the precipice. How infantile of me to use ineptitude as a cry for attention, but then again we’re all beings crying out to be read differently. Disjointed images, an MTV montage, I’m starting to lose relevance it’s nauseating, heady, but liberating all the same. I can feel a sharp pain in my gut. It is growing, steadily. And I am fading. I am fading.
Bleeding Fangs–Early Monday morning, I pick up my phone and try to capture the progression of thoughts running through my head. All I could remember is a. I am literally wasting my youth on vices that get the better of me b. A time from my past pre-surgery where I would binge on painkillers to dull my toothache and remember that my life is not a Red Band Society episode and that all this is actually real c. A nightmare about falling tooth usually means someone’s death but this is not a dream and I really am withering, and d. Those painkillers must have fucked up my insides real bad – that explains the sharp sting in my gut that persists. I might die soon.