I’m going through some unmentionable problems and I can only ask here for some dear friends to pray for me. some think to drink away their problems and only sink further down in them. seems like this one’s problems drink him away. maybe I’ll wash up on some shore. when I wake up in the morning I feel like dying. like I am dead. like I’m about to die sooner than expected, like maybe it would have been better to have died back in that hospital with pneumonia, not to recover.
the world actually comes to me on a first name basis making me aware of all the mistakes I’ve made, wrong choices; and let’s me know that I’m not special, that after some tears are shed over me, if any, memory of me will gradually be swept under the carpet and that will be it. and why the hell not? what really have I done? well, it just hurts thinking about it. all the worst things come to mind right now, overwhelming me, making it so that I can’t sleep. I disappoint myself down into a ball. I suppose I don’t deserve anything, any of it, this space to put my words down, any of my computers, or the computers I call mine, or my life in this apartment. everything can so quickly be shot down and not turned back. the depression is going to destroy me, destroy small parts down to the big parts, and then I’m going to fall apart into bits. I will finally be given up on. one only gets so many chances in life. I feel homeless; I’m not there yet. but don’t think people will forgive you unlimitedly.
he doesn’t realize sometimes how close he can get to being homeless. from time to time we hear about some asteroid that passed by the Earth and missed. we sit around and wonder what if. what if we were hit?
sometimes I just don’t know what to believe. everything can turn upside down.
the machine does a build black
instead of solid
find a work-around; done
we begin our process
of prioritizing jobs
but all so far
mostly in-house jobs
before we open the store
I turn on some internet radio
in the office to lighten the mood
please don’t mind the fact
that I’ve chosen the Sex Pistols
as I speed along
trying to concentrate
trying to get my mind off things
the world comes to me
says it’s sorry, it’s long since forgotten my name
please remind it
it’s okay, I suppose, then I remind it and
wait for the news
“I’m sorry,” it says,
“but the old policies no longer apply. most
of the paperwork has been lost, and whatever
was promised verbally you probably misunderstood
on your part anyway. but please, help yourself to some
mints at the front door.”
tidal-waves. blue, red, green, orange, aqua terror codes.
rush to the store, this is worse than a snow storm.
prepare. prepare. then rest.
drop from exhaustion.
I don’t count the sheep
I cry myself to sleep
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