Again and Again

These dawns are killing me;

these vicious sunrises tearing my eyes,

dehydrated cortex wailing inside my porcelain skull

and always that same old promise:

never again; no more

drinking, women

chasing that chemical-sex fiery apocalypse into small hours,

fucking as though Death himself were behind me

but the answer to it all.

I feel the pressure with the smile of a stranger

to stroke the event to it’s demanded conclusion,

be it enlightnement of a fellow male

or the desperate sweaty copulation with women of names

too easy to forget. And as I cum,

be it sexually, or intellectually, I fall

into the depression with the realization of the pointlessness of it all.

How many stranger’s lives and beds have I danced through

Bacchus reborn wild and insane?

And always, there, in the corner of vision, in the shadows

lies an answer that can’t be found

in any guitar, any cunt, any one’s life but my own,

but because that requires work and effort

it is far easier to treat all as a game:

play and fuck, fuck and play

fucking and drinkingdesperation

this life away…..

this life away……

this life away

into another hemisphere and stay.

Leave me be,

this mocking fucking role

you built for me.

I can’t do this anymore-

feel myself dying

into nihilism with a passion.

A living contradiction

I struggle to.

I resolve to stop


just one more

empty night. I promise.

Oh, empty Night, I promise.

Again and Again

mkl .

Paris, France

  • Artwork Comments 2

Artwork Comments

  • Lynn Brown
  • JenniferB
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