|
Monday, Apr. 12, 2004 / 6:11 p.m. ~I'm Fine~ There's a sign at the grocery store, you have to see it on your way out as you stroll behind the fat man who takes up the walkway, you have to see the words, the 'Where's Toby?', you have to see the photo there, the striped tabby lying in someone's bed. Toby's in bed one minute, he's gone the next. Was it a kidnapping? Is this a test? Could it be any harder to get through the day without having to worry where Toby is too? I've been renounced, denounced, denigrated, rejected, expurgated too probably. Fuck me, reject me, slit my own wrists, then do it again because I made you look at the blood oozing fresh from the clotting. I'm better, I'm worse, I'm fine, I'm hurting, I sit and think and it comes back in a flood, there's no controlling it, the time is inopportune, is there an opportune time?, there is no time, but my memory falters when it should not, it holds on to every little detail including the way you taste when all I want is to forget. And if you think this is a lot and that was a lot too, you have no idea what I wrote in the private sex journal, the one so few even know exists. It's public too, and it has it ALL there, every detail I could remember, right after, days later, later still, now, forever, I can't let go until I find someone else to take this pain from me. I need to pass it along, like a Karmic chain letter, cause this pain to someone new, hurt, hate, run, hide, reject, denounce, all of it you did to me. I need to stop switching from second person to third mid-sentence, I don't do it here, but there and here and all over. And where is Toby? He was in bed, looking all casual and calm and catlike, and spoiled and loved, and he was full his little belly, and now he's gone. Probably in a lab with electrodes in his skull. Or is he on someone else's bed? And do you always run when you know you've caused someone pain? Have you ever stuck it out, stood around and watched? Why not? It's fun to watch, you're afraid to see it, you're afraid to read it, you're over it, you're sick of it, you don't want a Glenn Close to remind you of what a fatal attraction is, and you weren't that good, it wasn't the best I've had, your penis is too small, it's true, I can't lie about that, as you can't lie and tell me I'm not too old, it's true, we know it's true. No, you can't satisfy me, but you were the last one, so you're fucking stuck there, and I can't get you out. Nothing short of someone to blow me away and fresh and new can do that. I have a fleeting eating disorder. I'm in the store, I look at food, and I think I don't deserve it. I think I don't deserve to eat anything good. I think junk and salt and who cares what it does to me, and high fructose corn syrup to drink, what difference does it make because I am not worthy. Rejection by an idiot shouldn't mean much to anyone. It should all depend on who's doing the rejecting. It wasn't a King, it wasn't royalty at all, it was a schmoe, plain and simple, a tiny dicked schmoe, so it shouldn't matter, but that's precisely why it matters so much. He should be thrilled to be with me. To be fucked by me should be the greatest thrill of his life and he should want me again and again and again, ad nauseum. But then the disorder is gone when I go out to eat and I treat myself, and I am good at bingeing, and I would never purge, I abhor vomiting, no laxatives for me. I wouldn't rid my body once it's there, it's just the getting it there. I'm fine, I'm worse, it's raining, it stops, where's Toby, or Waldo, nothing matters, it doesn't matter, I'm fine. I'm looking for someone to hurt. I'm taking applications. I want to reel you in, make you feel something, make you want me, then I want to cut you loose and never let you get close. I'm fine. Cost of the War in Iraq
(JavaScript Error)
Recent Entries: It Was 40 Years Ago Today - 9:44 a.m. , Friday, Oct. 12, 2012 Dead Black Cat - 9:07 a.m. , Wednesday, Jan. 25, 2012 As Seen From Outer Space - 1:07 a.m. , Saturday, Dec. 05, 2009 I Survived to Tell the Tale - 7:29 a.m. , Friday, Sept. 18, 2009 Reading My Life - 12:55 p.m. , Saturday, Sept. 12, 2009 
  |