Ramblings of a delusional dumbass

Today, I sat down to write, with a cup full of coffee by my side Irish But the words wouldn't flow So I began wondering how wonderful it would be, If one could buy words for a pirce like the cheap liquor I buy at the cheap bar where the bartender tenders my poison in a glass bottle wrapped in a dark cover in exchange for some rupees without an extra word uttered between us. I return to my damp, dreary room crack open the bottle, pour out three fingers of dark liquid into my favorite coffee cup and top it off with freshly brewed coffee. On the table, it's set, next to last night's incomplete work. Knuckles cracked, nib licked. And as I ponder, the words begin to fill up the pages, as effortlessly as the warm liquid filling up my belly. So I write some more I drink some more merrily, until the words begin to choke again

you are both the prey and the predator the familiar and the bizarre the prisoner and the prison a soup of contradictions boiling over, fuelling the fires of lust of despair of helpless surrender you are everything, within and without you are nothing, shadowed words and thundering silence a soup of contradictions boiling over, purging thyself of apathy of envy of undue happiness ideas hopes dreams cigarettes and alcohol lost for eternity

(Originally written on 16 May, 2013. Reposting for archiving purposes.) She lays there exhausted Disgusted at the crazy cat Silently weeping tired of the broken sign, flashing at her face incessantly She's confused, she's deranged She hates the world, she hates herself She hates that stupid cat as well She looks around in despair for a caring shoulder to cry on I look at her from the dark corner Invisible to her Invisible to the world