ABSENCE

Oh, well…fuck, it’s been long, I feel like I have been busy rotting away. Have done nothing which excites me...seem to feel most things are futile. I might be down…got the blues…unable to switch on…maybe I could choose to break out of this stuffy gloomy state of mind…but seems I don’t have it in me to transcend the curse upon my life….

Why is my life always in such a fucking state of emergency…I imagine all the dead bodies pilling up and haunting me….for all the loss, the dead ends and all the misfits born from my mind, my doing…and my life…my loneliness.
Its fucking pathetic…though that still doesn’t make it less real or less painful…and I dull the pain another day, holding on to the brilliant flicker of glittering diamonds and gemstones dazzling me for a moment, blinding me with its sweet momentum…though I abruptly wakeup when I realize, I have no one to share it with….And then the resent sets in, for being such a weak fuck that my life has to be validated through some one else’s eyes.
So who gives a fuck if you think me piteous. I am so tired of fighting to belong….must I embrace my disposition and wallow in the shadows of my mind….outside…beyond sanity….half crazed woman who doesn’t care any longer to apologize for her ill-befitting behavior.
Why cant I just toss my head back and laugh at the absurdity of life, (as I do when I think back about it) but in the moment it hits me HARD and always…always knocks me down to the ground. Humiliated, undignified, naked…the other extreme of erotic, exposing the sadness burnt in my flesh, the dark rings under my eyes, the scars on my body, the ripping sagging weakness of my ageing, loss of control, the decomposition and another step toward death without having been able to fucking figure out love; in motherhood or between a man and a woman, between friends or parents……which ever way………..I tend to fuck up, by giving in too much or too little. BUT …worst is that there is no outstretched arms to fall into, to wipe the mud from my face, fuss about the fresh cuts, the wounds, wash the crusty scabs, the dried tears, the dried snot (that has left a light peeling across the side of my check which I tried to wipe away)…love me through all the sordid abhorrence I come across in my life…which makes me cry and hurt cause I am innocent….
U must be wondering what the hell has set of this self-pitying tirade.........nothing out of the ordinary. I have had a long standing battle with my institution which I have fought and won. I have produced some interesting work, done a lot of media, turned 33 on the first of dec. Met some wonderful people, got my-self a supervisor I could only have dreamt of in my wildest dreams, got my self the most loving, intelligent, stunning child, got the house to my self for six weeks as my folks r of on their virgin trip to India….but it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to….. .......................................................................................................................................................................