just a little salt
for my wounds an unction for my mind there is music inside me but I can’t name the song I’m in remission, and that’s a
blessing but it’s harder to write,
and that’s ironic I’m not
complaining don’t get me wrong coz I was a madman who once swallowed lightning I suffered in wars no sane man would
fight I don’t miss the conflict but I miss the inspiration I still have that hunger I still want to write
ten thousand
miles straight without so much as a
taste I’m parched got the thirst on something chronic what about one more hit for posterity? let’s celebrate my sobriety with a cup
of god’s own remedy…
my fragile
remission hangs in the balance I’m excavating
the roots of childhood trauma that’s
not my only story but it’s the one
that hurts the most I took twelve
steps and faltered I know no higher
power the world now seems so heavy my heart cries out for ease but I’m determined to stay sober no matter what it takes
I’m here
because I’m here there is no other
place wherever you might find me that’s where I’m meant to be I’ve got to believe that, right? coz it pays to be flexible in this crazy, fucked up world I have no axe to grind no personal beliefs I’m not shackled by creed or caste to that extent I’m free
I keep my own
councel trust in my own eyes I’m not playing silly buggers here I adopted the scientific method of kicking arse and taking names I’ve crafted instruments of denial they are hidden in my head I’m not obliged to speak coz anything I do say will likely count against me if I roll off empty and there is a judgment day
you lose your
heart before you lose your mind but you get used to it loss is the currency of life do
you ever feel that way? like you
can’t see right from wrong? but you
know exactly where you’re at you’re
exiled on planet earth there’s no
known cure for that
me, I’m just a dreamer naked
before the dawn my world will never change the sun rises the sun sets the tide claws at the shore somewhere stars are dying while others are being born it’s always been that way these eyes have seen it all
I confess my faith in idiot reason because I’ve never known the truth no-one ever knows for sure questions circle like vultures I’m not afraid of questions but some questions can’t be answered and some answers can’t be questioned is love always the answer? or is love sometimes the question? I suppose it makes no difference to me because I keep my own counsel
I’m not running away I just changed my face to fit the frame you could say I’m in disguise I don’t forget the things I’ve done man, I nearly choked on them but I got over it and now I’m riding the gravy train but I had to give it up you know what I mean? I had to give it up pack it in and snuff it out no embers left to fan but there are questions there are always questions…
I believe peace
will be my final evolutionary adaption
I have no secret ambitions I left no stone unturned but I still feel like a chump it’s a question of personal power demons assault my imagination ghosts with billy clubs and poisoned
blades I ought to defend myself but
where do I begin? you cannot slay a
memory you can’t murder a dream no, violence won’t see me through I’m just howling at the moon the only distraction left to me they say there’s no peace for the
wicked I’m hoping that’s not true
I wanted the truth the way only fools want the truth but, after extensive enquiries I reached the inescapable conclusion that there are questions but there are no answers meaning is arbitrary and truth is a whore all the remaining questions are six feet deep too deep for the living
me, I’m in no position to be answering questions my bipolarchromosomes have me hung drawn and quartered strung out on electric wire
I believe what I feel
and I’m as changeable as the
weather I got a telegram from Jesus that says I’m doing fine but I’ve been let down before I’ve led a blessed life biblical disappointments aside still, I’m no wiser now than when I started out
there are wrongs that cannot be buried and there are wounds that never heal but don’t talk to me about justice I can’t afford justice justice
is for the rich and powerful not for
the likes of you and me our world is an abattoir where we fight for survival but
you can give yourself an edge your
mind is a weapon you must use it as
such or have
it used against you
notions of justice are arbitrary they say god is our final judge well,
god must be turning in his grave after serial
abominations and depraved criminal conspiracies
someone murdered innocence but
they can’t pin that on me
the faithful count their
burdens and pray for forbearance
and that’s alright
I too have burdens but I’m just a
thief so I’ll take my chances outside the
law where a man can carve his own justice I
can fend for myself I’ve often had to
this weapon is loaded it’s got to be loaded
or it’s no damn use to me
coming out of
hospital I suffered a century of frenzied depression where every
failure and humiliation was played back
to me on an endless loop of shame
what caused this horror show? -
my shrink has been barking up the wrong
tree here - because it was parasitic
beings demonic possession that’s what was wrong with me I needed an exorcism holy magic to wash my blood clean a ritual sacrifice something symbolic a virgin whore a calf of gold or something of similar dimensions instead
they beat me with psychiatric clubs
with certain
forms of demonic infestation there is a crazy person who despises the human
race and it’s illusions he longs to
trample them into the blood stained earth
when you hear of human atrocity
think of demonic beings sick, depraved beings with eyes filled with blood and mouths full of cancer in a world of anger and hatred demons are the masters they
play with idle hands and make war
within tortured minds
I wonder what
they will say about me when I am dead and gone I
imagine my obituary will be heavy I’ve
taken on mythological significance in certain quarters because I corrupted god’s will and made an abomination
of my heart the searing light of reality
brings old lies and fractured truths into sharp relief pitiless disclosure leaves no place to
hide I’m that terrible man who feasted on people’s dreams and then sold them down the Swanee I’ve
done some terrible things but never by intention things went wrong things went horribly wrong it’ll say so on my headstone
christ, I
hate the daily grind the bravest thing I do is live every day I tried to evade it I even tried suicide but in my attempts to escape pain I was only creating more pain and not just for me I shared my pain it’s communicable that way I think
too much it’s a disease thinking too much I’m coming down hard again I have a bad case of the bends I’m trapped again in limbo
snared by the pain in my mind
I’ve been
trifling with psychiatrists they’re a bit like lovers first they fuck with your head then they break your heart because
there is no fucking cure mental
illness is an immense organism dedicated to fucking up the entire human
project I’d rather have anything
wrong with my body if I could just be
right in my head how can an illness
be mental? I got soul sickness that’s what I’ve got I got soul sickness and I’m fading away fast
