\"ONLY A FOOL WRESTLES WITH THE SAME DEMON FOR THIS LONG
WHY ARE YOU STILL MAKING THE SAME MISTAKES
EVERY ATTEMPT HAS ENDED IN FAILURE
YOU CRY AND YET YOU DO NOTHING
YOU ARE THE WORST KIND OF PERSON\"
It’s 2:51 AM, I’ve been awake for eleven hours
I lament this life of endless “almost’s”
I feel such sickening satisfaction
When I think of how those close to me
Might feel about my abrupt “passing,”
The pleasure is almost orgasmic in the way
The Green Feeling washes over my hollow body
I am not strong or clever; I live behind well-made masks
I am the scoundrel that I despise, wretched and worthless
I seek death as the landed fish seeks water,
Thrashing helplessly in a dry cage
I walked into my home and I could smell my father in the cube:
The odor of a good time, of living bodies pulsing violently,
Of fast heartbeats and loose characters: all alive, all outside.
Such smells evoke the proud memories of a home that isn’t home,
Of blood that belongs to no clan, no kin.
Inferiority of stature is also in the odor,
Reminding me of my place in the shadow of my father,
As a cheap imitation’s imitation, not even tangential relation.
It\'s hard to believe that I\'m a human being,
Even harder to believe that I\'m not alone.