The machine is pain

I can’t really say why I feel the need to write things down, to share them and be honest. Especially when what I say can be so misunderstood. Or in hindsight it is enough to cringe about. Or like tonight it’s just so damned messy.

I am staring into the cold hateful eyes of truth and the damage I’ve done. The loss and loneliness. I hate my existence right now. My whole fucking being aches. The slow bleed is not enough. The leaking of time and erosion isn’t fast enough. Waiting for tectonic plates to move. It’s all so slow and dreadful.

Sitting here tonight I have a picture in my mind. Kneeling on the floor, leaning my face forward and kissing the barrel. Stretching to thumb the trigger. One loud pop and the spraying blood and grey matter. Then all gone, all gone. Relief. Goodbye.

How much pain, how much of this do I have to live through. How many more nights of not being able to sleep without the television on. Because when the lights go out and it gets quiet, my thoughts start to go feral and attack. How many more days where I have to brace myself just to step out of my room. The fear and anxiety that becomes vicious . How many days will I have to wrestle with this darkness. The urge to erase my life. To step off the ledge and into the void. It’s a nasty truth and I am sure maybe some of you are worried or frightened. And maybe for the sake of common decency one shouldn’t speak of such things in polite company.

A broken machine man crawls across the floor picking up scraps of metal and paper looking for the pieces that meant something. The whole time mumbling something that sounds like a strange melody. A prayer or a curse its hard to tell. The machine man is frayed wires and smoking motors. Beyond repair but too unconscious to turn off. Redundant and unimportant it spends it’s days wandering the factory floor trying hard to remember what it was built for. Remember what it did long ago before the humans left. Sadly it has no purpose. It just whirrs on and on. Tuneless and alone. An empty life.



4 responses

  1. Emily Pfeif

    how did you know? all i can say is you’re not alone.

    November 21, 2009 at 11:41 pm

  2. George Santayana wrote, “That life is worth living is the most necessary of assumptions and, were it not assumed, the most impossible of conclusions.”

    Richard Bach wrote, “Here is a test to find whether your mission on earth is finished: If you’re alive, it isn’t.”

    November 23, 2009 at 8:34 am

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