Oooh you're a naughty mess

0950

on station platform on route to doctors/ feel like shit/ fucking sluggish and knackered/ i'm buried 'neath a perpetual fug/ had a drink last night though within reason (i btl 14 percent vino) so it ain't a h'over/ p'haps its this d'tox shit i'm imbibing/ it affects the gut and that seems to be the primary site of discontent/i've not been following the instructions on the packaging but i can't imagine a homeopathic remedy can have such a profound and negative effect/ however some herbal highs are very powerful, so.../ i'm not sure if i deserve to feel like this (id est shit, in various manifestations and degrees) but i do/ maybe i'll feel worse before i feel better/

1005

just imbibed the most abysmal latte/ how, with such excellent equipment which requires a minimum of input from semi-sentient meat mannequins (were they puppets one might hope they were guided by a sensible hand), they fuck it up i do not know/ when paying somewhere in the region of a 2000 percent mark up one expects at least some degree of quality/ shit.../ anyway will soon have a one month meth. script, the thought of which pleases me exceedingly/ then to doc's to sort out ag'inst-deppers/ my black dog is persistent enough to require muzzling (at least - bring on the extraneous measures)/

1032

i think cbt (cognitive behavioral therapy) is what i need/ i'm trapped in repetitive thought patterns/ luckily i'm a fairly resourceful guy/ i've interests, which help divert my mind/ this marginally improves my lot/ but i still find large portion of my time is spent unwillingly obsessing over the many and various ways in which the albatross had wounded my fragile self/ whilst a lot of my anger is justified, i think i'm unfair in that i use her as a focus for all my rage/ im rarely express this/ i have the occasional vocal outburst but i'm usually a caring, attentive 'life partner'/ admittedly i'm not as tactile as before and am prone to freeze up when she embraces me/ but in the main i'm supportive and loving and confine this vast fury to the inside of my skull/ not a good idea, i hear you say/ and you're right/ it is a terrible idea/ as a consequence, i die everyday/ not a little/ not incrementally/ i die (i.e. cease to live) everyday/ my myriads dysfunctions conspire to form a prison from which i cannot escape/ and in this prison i cannot live/ it is a prison rooted in the past and i cannot reach out of it an make an imprint on the present, nor look to the future/ it is a horrible way to live/ mercifully there are some avenues of release/ literature, writing, heroin, alcohol/ i've always been like this, to an extent, functioning painfully below my potential/ but over the years the monster within, the prison without, whatever, has become stronger...