09 January 2003 - 3:47 am
being drunk mandates love.

the centre of the universe is most likely an irrational number, something like the golden ratio, where pythagoras' endless spiral that all of humanity is based on, the eternal framework of God or God(s) ends, terminates, in a giant blast of light, with no colour - that's why we can't see it

it's where colour ends, it's like the a mug full of mountain dew, a green colour that defies explanation, a sickly neon colour illuminating all faces in the dark, a pale blue like the sky and the green because the world has gone neon, has gone in all different directions, exploding like a neon tube, like glowsticks in the mouth, painting the tongue and teeth in technocracy, exclaiming I AM HERE

and an eye opens. but never so much as those which open when alcohol courses down the throat, the poor kind, like orloff vodka, horrid grainy liquid that burns as though i have just inhaled the sparks from a fireplace and it is searing. tremulous and unwavering, i know you, oh fingers! i know your treacheries, your slip-shod pulls and prods at my forehead, worrying away youth. elasticity slinking downwards and leaving age behind. suddenly out of things, servicing only the infinite, there is no infinite.

explosively communicating. volcanoes jump like little girls with red hair, talking to one another, up and down, punctuated by strings, like violins, exploding into sound and soaring like the individuality. which there is none of.

//

the bottom of the glass. the bottom and the core of the world is reached with a sudden exhalation and an i'm drunk i am wasted and it is quarter-to-four in the morning. except it's quiet and desperate and i could never live a life like that. it's amusing how i could never really answer questions on those stupid online quizzes before now but somehow i am congealing.

leaving. like leaves. there's no wonder that the word "leaving" is coming from fall. leaving occurs in the fall, arriving in the winter, settling toward the end, fucking in the spring, and fatherhood in the summer.

i just feel bad about myself a drunken revelation from across the room as warped as across the universe, a black-hole, the fact that you could do this, this, the because, the cause&effect, the jasonmraz on the computer. i guess i'll treat her right, i guess i'll -- too lazy to continue. try not to rely on the perfect life.

OH WE ALL HAVE GOLDEN DREAMS AND WE COULD ALL BE SO MUCH BUT WE CAN NEVER OVERCOME DEATH IN ALL FORMS BECAUSE DEATH IS THERE( FUCKING BECAUSE) IT IS THERE IN THE FOLDS OF BRAIN LIKE LINT IN THE NAVEL AND YOU CAN NEVER DIG IT OUT

OH WE ALL HAVE GOLDEN DREAMS AND THERE THEY ARE LIQUID AND BEAUTIFUL SOLIDIFYING INTO THE MIND INTO THE FORT KNOX OF THE MIND BARRED BACK AND BARBEDWIRE AND COLD AND STONE AND GREY BRICK

(oh this childlike wildlife is flooring me)

oh we all. oh m. o h iam. oh i do.

oh i.

//

you feel it inside of you when you are going to bed, the most, a tired examination of the day gone by with a heavy sigh as you lift the sheets over your pajama-ed-body and burrow down, head to fluffed pillows and curled into a form always trying to return to the fetal position ... you feel it.

i hardly ever change, i fall asleep in clothes, i don't eat right, i haven't seen the sun in over a week, i can taste the vodka coursing through my empty stomach and the bile revolting in the agincourt of my intestines. i feel the weight of the coming day and i will not meet it again. i will live perpetually in an artifically lit cell and wither into albino

//

(this madness when you talk)

//

if i stop writing this i could spontaneously implode

like new stars

in the coursing burning universe

this universe which is flowing in my veins this universe which i do not exist in for a moment, which i have been torn out of like a piece of construction paper like a rag of black construction paper

excuse me i have to go hug people now because being drunk mandates love

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