Cosmogonic Gut Punch (Patreon)

Every once in a while I have to try to do my job just to prove that I still can’t do it

Drinking a thousand glass shards at 7am.

Parent goes to real job as I settle down for another day of fake job.

There must be something in here.

God cannot stop laughing as I am submerged repeatedly into repentance.

If I could stop crying I would probably start laughing too.

But I’m not grateful it happened.

I’m angry it’s over.

Completely, eternally abandoning the virtue of honesty.

If it wasn’t good, I didn’t mean it.

I don’t want to keep the pieces of myself that ruin everything.

I’m on your side. Against me.

Open to oblivion: mouth wide, trusting as a babe, doomed as livestock.

You were right about everything and you’d probably slit my throat if you heard me say that.

It takes a lot of work to unsay words. I’ve been trying for years.

Infinite annihilation, scraping the bottom, as far as you can go,

then further,

and further,

and further,

till you’re not yourself.

Palms open, back away.

Hold you in my heart, unsure of what else to do.

Sifting through the shards in my morning water.