everything is terrible!

I walked back out into the asylum with 20 bucks and a pack of smokes.  I felt privileged.  even lucky.  to stroll calmly through the Dark is but one vice worth exploring, and being non-discriminate in this sense, I am possessed by an appetite long in the tooth.  but the stable and good never last and are always unavoidably derailed by the powers that should have been.  yes, I soon find that the people in charge have not restocked the supply of rubbers, a dreadful fucking predicament considering the local inhabitants.  and believe that fear is common in these moments when the odds shift dramatically towards crisis.  my thoughts will focus on nothing but what lies hidden in the carnal black shadows, will know that there are creatures here who should NOT be allowed to breed.  ever.  their greatest talent is a short attention span shadowed by the ability to forget ... this faculty of course remains necessary to a guiltless conscious, as how else does one lead an impetuous existence void of concern?  imagine.  and for the life of me I can't remember the name of that japanese instrumental band I used to like from the 90's.  

but no, this will not be the end as still later I will once again find myself on balcony 9 and I will receive a certain clarity on life, will sink into the dirt and rhythm of six billion people going down.  I will become the resistance of one, will have given up on any meaningful creativity and decided simply to live my life without restraint or care.  for instance, to those of you who brush your teeth before fucking ... this is wrong.  just listen to beethoven's piano sonata #14.  or simply listen to anything at all.  from the filth and grime life will create its own magnificent art; to stain it with a calculated perfection is to violently pillage the real beauty and spontaneity and inspiration of it all and bury it in our own fear.  

and yes, I am drunk.  or rather, was and still am now reaping the rewards, the beer left over.  I have already been to the Bar and I wonder if there is a story left in all of this.  but I am about to make an excursion into foreign lands, the most hostile of territories to solicit conflict, to throw a matchbook on the table and let them know where I've been, what I represent and everything they have failed to achieve.  clap your hands to the sound, mother fuckers, it will be good for your souls when I burn it all to the ground ...

and in this thought I am a dangerous, unclean, creeping thing.  and a poet.  and a hypocrite.  fuck that, it is the nature of the thing, and according to the book of leviticus, you are all guilty by association.  but at this moment I worry about none of you as all I can think about is food and bone gristle.  I admit that the world is simple.  which is to say that I am devil-ridden by cunt.  and in this regard I will wage war until the grass is vibrant and alive over my rotting carcass.  yes, take whatever you can from this life ....  for my part, I know that when I am asked, I will reply to the Void with pride that I have stood indestructible against a hopeless situation.  that I have held death close in the warmth of a sunday afternoon.  and that I am still scared.  

I tried to pick a fight with my refrigerator last night.  this may explain the mysterious injuries I woke with this morning.  and the renewed sense of fear.  

my only aim is to become a footnote worth exploring.    

(note on the present arrangement:  I apologize for this incoherence.  all of this has been staring me in the face the last few days and if I don't rid myself of it I won't be able to start anything new.  so here it is, more crap and the little bit of hope that next time will be better.)