madness abated

easy? hardly.

how can i make it clear? how can i say what has been said a thousand times over until i am sick of myself, the prattle, the trainwreck? it is not with ease that i turn away from that, it is out of fucking self-preservation. its all laid out there, its all been said once or three times.

ready for four more? shall i continue only for the satisfaction of knowledge that yes, it (still) fucking hurts?

okay then. take these fucking words to heart. i've chosen carefully, there is no ambiguity.

i've been killed dead. everything i thought or wanted or expected or did or tried or hoped or dreamed or lusted or kept tucked tight against my chest so as not to ever lose has been stripped away, pounded flat with bulldozers and wrecking balls, burnt into ashes, and buried in a fissure that turned out to be simply a crack straight into the depths of hell.

am i clear enough now?

i have no choice but to resurrect.

..and upon my re-birth would anyone expect i return the same as i was? morose, bent, lost, and clawing at the crumbs and bits of gristle left over?

no. i say no.

i say no more.