My mood has been sinking recently and so I thought it only proper that i should write again. Its been a while, and I have missed my imagination so. When have thou gone to dearest one? Soaked in distraction, attempting to keep the lingering temptations of death in the morning at bay.

I have been thinking about death, as one does, when sleep is unnatainable. My musings have brought me back once more to thoughts of theology and its inevitable squirminess. That slipperly little bitch of an instant. Life in my eyes, then none. And thats it. Reading religion always makes me itchy. The progression is a gradual one in the scheme of things, but viral in intensity. We sit smugly on revisionism. A oecumenical council here, a papal rebuttal there. The twisting fates of heresies old and new. im too messy for this right now, shit.

this deserves a mind sharper than i can offer. maybe ever. therapy and maybe more drugs thats the prognosis, maybe hopeful maybe robot city. i cant sleep. i havnt slept in weeks, over what? my dad. christ im a cliche, coz mommy didnt love me. fuck me, whiny bitch that i am. i wouldnt either. and oh yeah, i hate myself. thats the brass tack bollox. self loathing. it extends to loathing this skin rag i walk in, a bag of senseless peculiarity. why the fuck cant i just read some biology and be done with it. some history, some philosophy. all these fucking questions. like why why one big fuck you im socrates why. nothin makes sense and im dying. were all just dying. i want to rejoice in it. this temporary shit. go out there, be one with the world i inhabit. and its plain ol fear that keeps me here.

when i do die, millions of years from now, i want to be ground into a paste and watered down so that everytime someone uses a certain word, a piece of me can be spat in their faces. im not sure what the word is yet. I am sober. i cannot write and i cannot write music. i am a loathesome thing. wasting, wasted, waster. so sings the chorus, in my little brain. seratonin the musical starring fuckyou the clown and dont touch me . christ i want to scream. to be a supervillain. take over the world just to publicly smash my face in with a rock.

fuck i need to laugh. to really laugh. not some forced stuff for the workplace. for the wider world. to laugh at me again, that is joyous freedom. why cant i sleep. its back, thats why.