mahiwaga

My soul is screaming.

You might wonder who the fuck would read this shit. I’m not sure even I would with this neverending angst. I can’t fucking win, not even for a goddamned second. (Insanity for now, get your mind off the hard glittery edge for a moment.)

Is it true that you can’t escape who you are? What in fuck’s name does “Fight Fate” even mean? (Alone and nameless, I walked the Universe.) Benadryl? Check the apothecary. I need some heavy shit, we’ll see what happens.

Oh, yes, I have crossed over to the dark side a little, a classic, this one. Makes me wonder if I’ve just been sufering from withdrawal this whole time (withdrawal of [redacted], no doubt, oh, the enkephalins of love(lust?)) I feel no pain, it’s true, that ragged, raging, splintery glass shardy feeling is gone, truly anesthetized, I can poke it and [probe] it but there is no pain.

(Means my doom, shouldn’t have thrown away that gin.)

The problem with happiness (even this kind) is that it goes away. Worse, you know it goes away. But at least it gives you time to prepare for that oncoming wave of pain.

See the problem here is that Sisyphus is cheating. It diminishes the true (futile) achievement. Fuck it all.

Problem is,
you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders
so sure that the world will fall apart without your
                                                            unremitting gaze                                                    and sharp tongue
So it follows quite readily, that I figure my role is to
carry the weight of the world on my shoulders
like some duty-bound Titanic oaf
                            curses, you tricked me again

But Loki-inside-of-me knows it is all bullshit,
the Serpent could up and slither away
Asgard wouldn’t come crashing down
Bifrost wouldn’t crack asunder
Middle Earth wouldn’t fall into freezing Hell

I could just wander, hither and thither
happy with this drip, drip, drip into my veins
              let your dreams burn away into ashes
              leave a hole inside you never to be filled
              fuck you, I never agreed to be born
You say it doesn’t matter, do what your heart tell you
But Loki-inside-of-me knows it’s all bullshit
I am Atlas, smiling stupidly at the Universe
              still giving those apples away

Who’d have known anesthesia was the way to inspiration
Pain without the suffering, catharsis without engorgement
no need to keep tasting that bile in your mouth
as the acid of this world eats your feet
    Oh this world is full with the very retch of God
    Don’t you know he is puking with the vileness of our deeds?
      Fucking hypocrites, sending your own to Pilate
 when that heathen Roman said no, coolly calmly rationally
You nailed the Son to the Tree yourselves
    I enjoy how you love ignoring his best lines.
        You who are without sin, cast the first stone
        Judge not lest you be judged
Fucking hypocrites, I dare you to invoke his name.