you, yourself, as much as anybody else, deserve your love & affection ~ Buddha
Despite how reluctant I find my fingertips to currently be, I have created this little portal in order to share my writing. Years have passed by since I quietly stopped scribbling eye-witness accounts of the self destruction & desecration I subjected myself to; of the blood on my hands & the drugs, prostitution, dissociation, psychosis, love, loss; of all that was left over..
I acknowledge that I need this, to find a vortex that I might make my own constructive outlet in order to empty myself out, to pour myself into something else. I feel compelled to make sense of the tattered scraps in my mind which hold etchings & fragments of what I’ve done with my life, my loneliness, my lessons, & of what I found within my rags, my riches & my ruin.
these traumas, this archaic abyss, has shaped, severed & suffocated me into the creature typing these words to you tonight.
I am the filthy fucking proof that nurture neglected will inflict irreparable damage to the soul, I am the lead production of the environmentally disturbed. Of nature & nurture & nothingness.
And so it happened that I found I could no longer document what I had done to myself, I became mute & despondent when I had only ever been fire & brimstone. The raw fucking reality became so consuming that I’d gag or dry-heave, unable to construct the words into existence as the shock had set in nice & tight. Wondered how long it’d stay, I’m glad it has gone, I am ready to acknowledge the sheer volume of it all. Blank faced & deafeningly quiet I ripped out my own throat, bashed in my own teeth & made a pact that I’d one day make poetry from it all, first though, I had to survive it.