meh

[yinyangclock]

today i went walking and spent a couple of hours in a place i haven’t been in a while. i sat, smoked cigarettes, melted into the concrete and had conversations with the traffic.
whilst i was there i thought to myself that at some point i’m going to look up and sitting opposite will be someone just as flawed as me. we’ll share eachother in our loneliness and without saying a word be obtuse within eachother’s self destruction.
i saw tell-tale artifacts she’d left behind- an empty pack of menthol cigarettes, breadcrumbs, a pigeon feather. there was no doubt that she was there once, her cigarette glowing as she inhales, brushing the red hair from across her face. and yet i never saw her.
i gagged and threw away my cigarette in disgust.
a cat approached me on the way home and i ignored it.

[buttplug]

when I got home I realized I was hungry. I searched my kitchen for something to eat, knowing I wouldn't find anything I wanted. I sat down on my ratty couch and tried to read a magazine, but I couldn't make out the words. It was then that I realized I was crying. Tears fell on the cheap paper and smeared the lettering. I felt disgusted with myself for being so weak, letting my feelings show. I reached into my back pocket and fished out my last cigarette. It was bent and tobacco was falling out but I didn't give a fuck. I fumbled with my lighter, I still couldn't see to well.

I sat on my couch inhaling the dry smoke and tried to wipe the water out of my eyes. As I did the the cherry fell off my cigarette and added another hole to my rug. Fuck it I said, whats another hole in this shitty rug, it wasn't even mine anyway; I rented it from some asshole who apparently didn't know what a fucking plumber was. As I finished my cigarette I flipped on the tv.

[buttplug]

Any takers?

[DWARFINATORclock]

A day or so later I got a poem in the mail from Lydia. It was a long poem and it began:

Come out, old troll,
Come out of your dark hole, old troll,
Come out into the sunlight with us and
Let us put daisies in your hair...

The poem went on to tell me how good it would feel to dance in the fields with female fawn creatures who  would bring me joy and true knowledge. I put the letter in a dresser drawer.

I was awakened the next morning by a knocking on the glass panes of my front door. It was 10:30 AM.
"Go away," I said.
"It's Lydia."
"All right. Wait a minute."
I put on a shirt and some pants and opened the door. Then I ran to the bathroom and vomited. I tried to brush my teeth but only vomited again -- the sweetness of the toothpaste turned my stomach. I came out.
"You're sick," Lydia said. "Do you want me to leave?"
"Oh no, I'm all right. I always wake up like this."
Lydia looked good. The light came through the curtains and shone on her. She had an orange in her hand and was tossing it into the air. The orange spun through the sunlit morning.
"I can't stay," she said, "but I want to ask you something."
"Sure."
"I'm a sculptress. I want to sculpt your head."
"All right."
"You'll have to come to my place. I don't have a studio. We'll have to do it at my place. That won't make you nervous, will it?"
"No."
I wrote down her adress, and instructions how to get there.
"Try to show up by eleven in the morning. The kids come home from school in mid-afternoon and it's distracting."
"I'll be there at eleven," I told her.

[Sombra]

Cecilia sat and watched us drink. I could see that I repulsed her. I ate meat. I had no god. I liked to fuck. Nature didn't interest me. I never voted. I liked wars. Outer space bored me. Baseball bored me. History bored me. Zoos bored me.

[DWARFINATORclock]

what