Off my chest (Catharsis)

Oh diary! How I burn and yet yearn for twisted thoughts in the midnight hour. Sicky sick neurons salivating hungrily. The mind turns to dark wishes. I must have that bloody end, splattered walls the abstract art of my death. The floating dagger speaks to me, hums a pretty tune. Ay Lenore had it lucky, taken without the unnecessary drama. I want that damn bullet burrowed in my head. Jesus or a gun?

Bronson demands swirling in me. Wishes unanswered in a corpse-filled world. Let me dress up as the passed ones, the walking dead with a wig. My heart is screaming for steel embraces, at night I fantasize about the plunge, repeated with gusto. What would Freud say about that symbolism? Options of the desperate; fear of finality and familial guilt. I turn away from my morbid reflections but no escape. The bright future hides from sight.

How does an emptiness morph into at a loss filler? Brimming with pain and psychosis, plump with them. Rolling over in bed, the friend, tossing and turning, bashing skull imagery. All in my head and all in my head. The damage cracks all, edges cutting away. Save me a slice.

I lay turning matters over and again. Failing Turing test as I become the automaton; empty-eyed body drifting through the concrete jungle. Other people’s drama flowing around me, against me, effervescent plumes and mists clutching the numbness. I look on dry, lifeless, teary eyes staring at me demanding answers. I have none, I have nothing for them except a passing fancy. I am more closer to a a cadaver than a lover. I bloom with empathy and affection only to be robbed of it within seconds. Life leeched by invisible insects, mortality a pest to sweep away.

Institutions place me squarely in the thick of it. Psycho analysts telling me what life is, truths of the present general generation. Aphorisms and cliches sputtering from official mouths like damp dictates. They’re passing prescriptions and pills as I lag about, holding knees in an embrace of unawares. Lost highway. A Chinese ghost pulled this way and that, no feet upon the floor, no roost I call home. Rolling stoned through crowded streets, feeling lonelier at each pause. Put on the gregarious mask and slip into an aroused state. Then the smile melts from my face, sour glaze to take its place. Hospitals, knock it all, stripper coos and substance abuse. Hungry for the blade.

Trauma freckles on comatose manchild. Coasting along that highway dropping sense and sensibility. The mania the gutter dive, paranoia in plenty supply. Talk, talk everywhere, secret whispers and ridicule for this pauper prince. Trust no one, hate everyone, love everyone, confusion says. Question the question, curiosity spark wants fire but no tinder for the flame. Give away and rot away before the task is done. Perverse pleasure in daydreaming final cut, lost in imaginings of the macabre. Cursing a god with no belief, beating chest to feel just once, pricks and stabs to find the courage.

Deeper, darker, growing desires. I see that curved blade wrapping round my pretty neck, grasping the last straw, feeling the cool grip against my skin as I gulp with anticipation. The death dealer, sharp pinch and my hand brings it in. Bottom-heavy bisection image burning into my mind, let the vision play again and again til carmen queasy rolls out. Hollow point bullets kissing forehead, gun fun on the brain. So easy isn’t it, yet I don’t get it, don’t search for the magnum opus. The blam blam sound echoes and the record repeats. One small button to erase the board. How long is the wait?

The curtain is called, the play has started. Popcorn and monocles filling airs and putting them on.



There’s a brightness that is showing. Like the moon that is glowing. Sun and stars and all within me. Supposed chakras lighted up like Kumar spliffs.

I awaken from a slumber. And I find the magic number. Two spirits forming double helix Deuteronomy. Numerology making the divide.

We separate so slowly. In the drift I am so lonely. Earth quakes with violent brushes. Two lands with dimming light.

The darkness hides my body. Please beat me I am naughty. So far flung from being healthy. I crumble under the weight.

Forsaken by the times. I have begun to commit crimes. Evil takes this withered body.  And I whip myself tonight.

Self-delusion and self-harm. I awake with disturbed alarm. I am not the man I used to be. I am not a thing to see.

Fighting numbers, lost in words. Having tea with absurds. Token phrases, palms in face. Curling up in balled distress.

Settle up settle down. Identity the empty noun. Hero of the broken toys. Counting down the final hour.

Yes, to be full of thine own brine. Verily I soak in the bath of better batter butter, lambasting others and basting myself. Crooked pointed fingers at the muggles, dregs of society as my mind sees it. Blinded by hate and succumbing to the life force, reeking of the stench of neediness. Like, love, adore this form, mon grand spiritus. I who run on kudos and despise the flattery, the ways of the pity pandering world; not obsequious but the aspartame sweetness bubbles up gagging my senses. Must save face, show face, of valour, strength, cheerful chipmunk cheeks. High on the winds of destiny, the link stalker of old. With knitted cap and feisty spirit I travel on and on, mosey along to gather no moss. Stones turned and seeking an unknowable. Lost, ignorant and perplexed at what to do next. Blueprints faded and ripped, eyeing up close but lost in the details. I see nothing, nothing. Error, danger, circuits overload master. 1000101. Got to ten and repeat again. My true face has been shown, metal gear all alone. Factory reset. Boot up to a new HAL. Til 3005.

Combos and sides

Germs germs every way germs.
Dirt and grime all over the world.
Never touch this never ever squirm.
Stay away from me make a ball curled.
I don’t wanna breathe I’m so disgusted.
I don’t wanna cum don’t wanna spread seed.
Make it through the day can’t be naked.
Filthy ugly form never shall I breed.
Brush and clean it up wash away sin.
Double triple scrub red from bleaching.
I don’t want no touch never get within.
I don’t want no love never comforting.
Peel the skin away dirty oily mess.
Burn the evil out burn the sick away.
All I need is time all I need from you is less.
Scratch and tic away demons here to stay.
Looking all around paranoia set.
Worry fear and gripes never letting go.
Staring empty now shell shock vet.
Fret and piddle self humiliation show.
All I need is space claustrophobic sting.
I don’t wanna fight struggle fail and fall.
I don’t wanna stand shrinking from the ring.
Self I do despise gone and hung it all.

Googly moogly hullabaloo.
Set at 8 I’m out at two.
Spinning tables twelve chairs.
Damn little teapot bubbling up.
Cornish hens and placid ducks.
Hosh posh ballroom blitz.
Dining room and dining tryst.
Fare the well come about face.
Shiny tiny boots full of lace.
Corduroy and bobby pins.
Playschool playdate doctor date.
Kinder garden belly rubs.
Crawl and spittle earthly shrubs.
Shrugs thugs beastly pugs.
Addict edict minor drugs.
Fickle fevered ego drop.
Acid test and mono lock.
Lips hips curves and dips.
Sensuous senses sensei sips.
Meister master on display.
Dive in drive in Tarantino filming.
Easy gutter life and waste.
All in fo dat paper chase.
Galang galang Vietcong nang.
Raspberry strumpets and space tang.
Pootie cutie oh so newbie.
Fight for freedom fight for wife.
Bridezilla gorilla jock filler fella.
Pancake putin Russian gluten.
Mange mange food for thought.


I really don’t know what people want, or what I want for that matter. Stuck in the broken social scene teenage traumedy. I figure no one really knows what others want, so many divorces, broken homes, political strife and culture wars. I feel autistic sometimes, I reflect on my past and see a slowly developing picture of a child riddled with violent and surging emotions and distrust, so much confusion, so many brain lapses. I want a particular reaction and certain sentences from people that I never get. My mind is aloof, somewhere else, playing gin rummy with the liver or something. A myriad of options and variables float along in my head with each interaction, I question all arrays, all meanings of their words and gestures and I fall flat onto the pavement Wile E. style. What do they mean? Is it being nice? mockery? sarcasm? I have an answer that seems logical at first, then I deliberate and debate myself to find some hidden meaning, some trinket of folly on my part. Better or worse, the pendulum swings both ways, I am overly positive and overtly negative. Rainbows and dust clouds ruminate around me waiting to lash out or onto someone; a Thing for my delicatessen routine. Am I Hannibal or a playful imp jollying around tossing laurels and hollies around the menagerie? Garden gnome knows no home.

The jovial party man inhabits me, scurries out to frolic and play with the mortals before the scouring grumble grump comes to judge and hate out of self-conscious contempt. Belushi bacchanalia? Hipster syndrome? Dionysian harpy? What do I entail? My imaginings and foldings reveal a paper tiger with the soul of a crane; low to the ground, high to the sky. The guiding line, light, principle, what to follow. I’m stepping out tripping over my feet in a cobblestoned avenue full of cold comforts. The sweet smells of baking bread and wooden shop signs in the sepia toned world inside the mind. Quaint hobbles and odds and bobbles.

I escape to a dream within. Better than this dualistic fight for supremacy. Alpha and beta raising knuckles for the fisticuffs. Bawler and brawler knocking heads, cracking skulls, bashing brains. Which Eve will I be? Three faces brazenly facing the world at large.


Ah, the vitriole o de doe. Playing with the hate ball, never passing; traveling trammeling bitter basket shot. Deceiving self with lies of over it regurgitations. Humiliation celluloid copying infinitely; fin, no, no end for me. Moi moi kiss of irritation leaving lipstick exasperation. Sparkled lesbians past nymphet lounging in easy chairs of my happy place. See, even there you are not welcome. Days of resentment and rude expulsions, nights of jittery buggery tic ticky spasms. One and all look, look at the crazed man, the freak of the hour, set your watches for the show.

Revulsions compulsions, blame game fame. They assume, assy me, donkey boy braying fool for the youngsters. I delude myself once more, once again to Riverdale back to broken youth. Shy shy sullen buoy, coasting through the life waves. Crashing cashing in, Johnny here comes the meltdown. Be bad Johnny, lift that switch, knife the night and blind the bitch. The darling little ones don’t have to see, saw the blood tumbling out. Open mouth but no sound comes out. Shocked, locked, highway blocked, no more riding it all night long. But the night is long, terrors don’t have bedtimes. Is it dark enough Democritus? Is the fire burning Prometheus? Let the flames rain down upon these wicked souls that taunt and mock the trodden down of downtown.

And I am alone, alone with the hallowed names and inner screams. Audiophile for the wails. Banshee no love me, polter guise layers upon my skin. Weak flesh succumbing, giving to the carnal beasts of lascivious loathing. How I love the embroiled sickly feeling battering my bones. I dance with them with country music in tow. I set the plate for it and dine of judging bitlets, I may rape what I sow. So, the pity game goes on, the hate doth grow strong. Decardia. Pure self-hate awakening. Drape me in shame, skeet skeet misery all over me. Failure. Anxious pup smacked to the wall. Glower and cower as the bright mortals walk by. The damaged are the homeless you look with averted eyes. No see the transients, no sense nonsense.

The regulars I call them. The well-to-do citizens of well-adjusted cities peering at the freaks for just a little while. No bother bother none, honey pots are waiting just beyond the pines. They got life by the balls and the cock of life around the bend. These mortals they be tricky, just waiting to offend, waiting to soak up your delirium drippings. Display your heartache on the vine, the Tube, the social media bully ground. Like like, plus one that degradation, surely the weaker are to be ridiculed n’est pas. Si bon si bon. I become the silly man, c’est ridiculous, c’est drole, imbecile. Opera clown, fire fox, I revel in my own Socratic twist. I become so wrapped in the game I believe it. Play play all life a stage, phases broken up for living ones, trifling ones, selfish sons.

I am the ego monster that feasts on cured flesh. Marble maniac slash away for severed heads. Sick so sick, paddy wagon come to play. White coats and electric jolts in the future past. Jigsaw puzzles and sedatives, time for deathly sleep. Maker’s mark, prisoners hark, downed hounds howling for freedom gnashing teeth at iron bars, black gates. Locked in state, few feet to roam, cut myself, stab myself, no self at home. Wait for the beep please, manners are your friends, on them you must depend, no rude boy to contend. None such jerk, riddim of the ire. Land of polite smiles, jackals all the while. Feed em teach em leave em beat em. Six sick pups with sickle stick ups. I’m done no fun naked baby on the run, chase that bottle rum, lick it stick it pablum.

Bowling for Concubines

Yes I fell for a stripper. Oh my erotic professional rather. They made me feel okay with the world for just a smidgen of time. Smidgen time is the best. And lo when nothing else seemed to pique mine interest, the pretty lasses brought forth the charm and gregariousness out of the briny deep. Pallor returned to my cheeks. Cheeks ripe for the squeezing. Then they wouldn’t help no more, the lovely vision of a beautious dancer elicited nothing remarkable, no resonance came. Dark times at Hogwarts, snippy snape broods away brushing pretty petals away.

But this one, the Quebecois goddess. Tall, red hair, kind face, picture perfect for me. I like a simpleness to the femmes, no need for modesty but little amounts of painted face are right up my alley. Bowling for concubines. I affectioned her mainly because she reminded me so of sweet Melanie, the girl next door I never had. The married one with two kids who drew out the ether of my love and crushed it with reality. Not a homewrecker son.

I was all alone those days, I tired of everyone, no joyful rebellion, no atlantis, no exit. The women saw something in me I denied myself, so full of that acrid hatred of the self. Empty mirrors attached to fists. I indulged in vices from a safe distance, none of the harsh drugs or daredevil antics. This girl kept me sane in an insane world, or so I thought. Thoughts are what get ya. They slither and burrow in the mind and exact some unknown, malformed vengeance for no fathomable reason. So alone with my thoughts and scribblings of a madman poet, I wandered Toronto with fervor, fever and assortments of moods and personalities. Hobnobbing, gorging and purging, drinking and spending, freak off the leash heeding reckless. Devil may care, devil without a cause, rebel without pause, rebel make hair. My journey was scattered with experience and characters.