I used to spread em’ and see what my asshole looked like in the bathroom mirror. I was comparing myself to gay pornstars. I had lost a lot of shame at that point. Manorexic or bulimic bilious and a drunken slob, traveling downtown hot spots wasting away and searching for something and someone. Anyone who could make me interested in life, the world, being young and tasting hope maybe. I didn’t give people much chance, I passed much judgment and assumed I had most of them figured out. I doomed myself to imagining there were no new frontiers, whatever the masses had to offer was a dry, dull, washed up sameness. Never a chance, never a nevermore.
Sometimes I question everything and then I don’t question enough. Two sides playing tag with each other, perusing news for secrets. Giving in to ease and the luxury of passivity, apathy, low rung surrender of the quizzical mind. Matter matter burning bright, letting go of third eye sight.
I was so paranoid before, worried about everything and mistrusting all things official. Believing static on the radio was spies listening in on conversation, the devil was in the idleness of time, god judging my onanism. The spying by government turned out to be partially true but really it isn’t a coordinated masterpiece as the conspiracy goes. People just suck at things sometimes and acceptance makes life easier, why live in dreariness and constantly watch shadows and corners of the eye?
Now I kind of find myself putting more trust in my variety of news sources and illuminating books. As if the AP crumbs given to news sources is so full of truth and integrity. The same wording in so many articles from different publications, borrowed breath from asthmatic delegators. Trust, no trust, do I have the time to analyze analysis? Wrapping my head around bits of culled disinformation, mind swimming with arguments and doubt. Doubt has become the paradigm of my existence.
I tasted my own semen before.
When I was young I was jealous of my shadow because it was skinnier than me.