Excerpt from my Book: Dangers of a Confessional Mind. A collection of poetry, journals, stories and blogs from 2004-2008.
Thursday, April 01, 2004
King of My Bedroom
From King of the Hill to King of the Road. Here I sit King of my bedroom. Soreness creeps into my throat and I can’t eat or smoke without pain. I lay in bed downloading porn and watching movies that I’ve seen over and over again not because I like doing this but it’s all I feel up to doing. No passion in my heart. No stories to tell. Just porno and horror movies. Sleep. Painfully swallowing and inhaling. I barely make it to work. I call out another day. My fantasy girl’s whose ass and face hurt me at work tells me how good I look and I shrug it off A coworker tells me she’s telling other people how good I look with my shave and haircut and I still go on with my dragging day waiting for the breathing to get easier and the razor blades in my throat to go away. No cure for my ills I guess but time and sleep. I want to write something clever. I want to make you laugh. Hell I want to laugh. My sickness took away my obsessions and my desire to write. I hope I can still write without obsessing. I close my eyes again and I still don’t think of her or any one. I just see white spots in the dark. I try to write a love story. I can’t. I don’t have a love story. Maybe true sex experiences. No. I’ll write about how bored I am with writing because I am sick. Sick of feeling ill. Not being able to breath. Sick of celibacy. Sick of longing to love and be loved. Sick of not having enough money to do anything except barely survive. Sick of sick of sick of sick of myself and my little rants. I’ll just swing the covers up over my head and turn up my Social Distortion Cd I just found that I thought was lost for the last two months and cry another lullaby along with Making Believe and watch Re-Animator for the second time this week. I’ll put on my crown of pity and take heed upon anyone who dares enter my sorrowful kingdom. I am the King of My Bedroom