The Shitty Thing About This Thing Is All Of It

by dbdevilliers

the hard part is of course the beginning
you’ve got to catch the reader’s attention
as an inveterate fleeter of mind I am the difficult
target audience to which I presently address myself
and that’s not some bullshit metaphor no when I write I truly
am just talking to myself
a tendency towards one of several big words I seek to
know myself a little bit better because maybe then I’ll be a
little bit less scared or sad or confused or all the words which
according to my own upbringing and understanding should
not describe a man
and so here I find myself
oh honey baby tell me something I want you to
tell me what you think about when you shake
into tiny little pieces and you blow blood into tissues and
that’s what happened last night huh nothing like a
good expensive regret you can’t afford and oh baby please
tell me something I need you to tell me why you do it and
maybe maybe I can say maybe again and have some hope and
do you have any of that? I’ll spend everything I have if
you’ll sell it but how could I ask that but how couldn’t I see
this is what desperation smells like and I can smell it on you too
but of course you don’t exist and neither do I so hey we have
that in common huh rapport there the lines go and go and goddamn
I am so terribly alone and I am so
terribly afraid and I can’t write anymore because hell I
can hardly even think anymore and that’s the way I want it
one can effectively lobotomize oneself given ethanol enough and time enough and you
get to choke and vomit and bleed and vomit and you get to kill
everything you’ve ever known you get to take it all and when they
finally put you down in the oven or the dirt they’ll read words and
cry and you’ll kill them a little more and maybe maybe you’re being too
hard on yourself but the trouble is you
aren’t being hard enough
or you’d do something about it.

Suppose no one ever told me it would be easy.