Monday, November 28, 2011

page 16

me this power I was born with grows beyond me it reaches past me into the lives of others I hated the way that bertha would crumble before me the scars never seem to heal I am always hungry for love I live by impulse and passion by the white heat of love oblivious to space and time and people and place I go on living in this ecstatic hell being moved by the winds of fate not knowing their cause just being blown if I could I would renounce my mind my works my effort and merely live not suffering the slings and arrows that confront my mind if only I could give this thing up and live a life like all the others showing the depths the immensity of the darkness I have lost my mind to bertha and would follow her to the ends of the earth she has destroyed reality she has destroyed conscience with her bells and whistles bertha is not bothered by truth she invents her life as she goes along she sees no difference between the real world and the world of make believe she travels from one to other freely I don’t know how to distinguish her to extinguish her I love her for that she takes the imagination so seriously it is my courage to hurt that she hates I carry her around with me like carrying a corpse I go door to door asking to be let in but no one will let me in carrying a corpse they are afraid that I am some mad scientist and will raise the dead I have given this dead body most of what dazzles you the love for the black colors the denial of god the social construction of love the seeing with the sociological imagination it is not the personal troubles but the social forces how full you are with the riches of others I was ready to give the dead everything to give bertha everything I have invented and created for her expanding her to fill the universe there is no bertha in the physical sense she has become metaphysical beyond this earthly experience she move now in the world of emotions pure emotions whether good or bad they are hers the illusion she fights with crude words she is unreal even to me I don’t know her she is illusion and mystery she sits eternally in the tall black armchair I am in a fever I want to get up and throw my arms around you to kiss your neck to overwhelm you with the gifts of love the womb in you speaks and unfolds everything there is fire there is flowers there is the fall’s harvest we wait for the newness of spring and the summer’s heat the passion in the back of your mother’s camper leading me to the gallows tearing myself out of the coma removing myself from the dream of the people I go to the bar for a drink and the bartender wants to introduce me to a woman he is a pimp on the side and she is from Seville she is working her way through school and needs money for books I was not responsible for what I said or did the drugs were a greater influence on me that I had predicted the hit of blotter acid was stronger than normal I spent the night watching the lights and receiving messages from alien spacecrafts a strange a treacherous thing as the lights circle around me and I am taken up in the moment feeling this alien presence watching me wanting see what is playing at the cheap theater looking at the dog panting happy for hours and hours wearing familiar clothing you stare up looking at the unfamiliar ceiling I have been speaking to the ghosts they believe in life but they don’t believe in you they think you are inanimate that you don’t believe in the birth and death cycle fiction is based on reality they accuse you of fabricating reality falling into

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