I laugh maniacally, then take a deep breath and touch my chest- expecting a heart to be thumping quickly, impatiently, but there's nothing there, not even a beat.
I laugh maniacally, then take a deep breath and touch my chest- expecting a heart to be thumping quickly, impatiently, but there's nothing there, not even a beat.
I like to dissect girls. Did you know I'm utterly insane?
I tried to make meat loaf out of the girl but it becomes too frustrating a task and instead I spend the afternoon smearing her meat all over the walls, chewing on strips of skin I ripped from her body
I'm into, oh murders and executions mostly. It depends.
Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do?
A curtain of stars, miles of them, are scattered, glowing, across the sky and their multitude humbles me, which I have a hard time tolerating. She shrugs and nods after I say something about forms of anxiety. It's as if her mind is having a hard time communicating with her mouth, as if she is searching for a rational analysis of who I am, which is, of course, an impossibility: there... is... no... key.
I've forgotten who I had lunch with earlier, and even more important, where.
Akthent on thee latht thyllable.
My pain is constant and sharp...this confession has meant nothing
All it comes down to is this: I feel like shit but look great.
Open the hood of a car and it will tell you something about the people who designed it, is just one of many phrases I'm tortured by.
And though the coldness I have always felt leaves me, the numbness doesn't and probably never will. this relationship will probably lead to nothing... this didn't change anything. I imagine her smelling clean, like tea...
The only cheese I have in the apartment is a wedge of Brie in the refrigerator and before leaving I place the entire slice--it's a really big rat--along with a sun-dried tomato and a sprinkling of dill, delicately on the trap, setting it.
By the time you finish reading this sentence, a Boeing jetliner will take off or land somewhere in the world.
There's no use in denying it: this has been a bad week. I've started drinking my own urine.
Disintegration---I'm taking it in stride.
We buy balloons, we let them go.
I could stay living in this city if they just installed Blaupunkts in the cabs.
I feel I'm moving toward as well as away from something, and anything is possible.
I felt lethal, on the verge of frenzy. My nightly bloodlust overflowed into my days and I had to leave the city. My mask of sanity was a victim of impending slippage. This was the bone season for me and I needed a vacation.
I had all the characteristics of a human being-flesh, blood, skin, hair-but my depersonalization was so intense, had gone so deep, that my normal ability to feel compassion had been eradicated, the victim of a slow, purposeful erasure. I was simply imitating reality, a rough resemblance of a human being, with only a dim corner of my mind functioning
I have to return some videotapes
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories