westid

i’m not hard to criticise. there’s always a conflict inside, same forces collide every time. hold on / let go. hold on? let go? i hold on and stick with my first instinct, only to let go when it’s time to have a great fall because gravity is the only thing left that isn’t folly or total fucking farce. i let go and think “fuck it” just an unpredictable attribute that could be anything, for anyone, at any time … spend a while in free fall, all of a sudden “this is taking a while, there’s quite a distance beneath me i didn’t know or appreciate / feel just how good the going really was” and even though this descent was quite the mistake, if i act now and cut all of my losses somehow; * pulls the emergency brake *

even if i do tell this tale with a climb / fall rhetoric, i don’t know if there really is a bottom to land on or even a top to climb upon. maybe when i clamber onto the top and peer down my nose upon it all, someone could be waiting to blow my brains out, sure i would make it to the top and have a view of beautiful sky, bask in the sun; briefly encounter for a fraction of a moment, but no time to justify the climb. instead diminished into pointlessness, your final thoughts wasted on fear, gawping down the barrel of a gun

if i’ve got it the wrong way round, the arbitrary philosophy of up or down, i should have just enjoyed the fall. plummeting but passive i am calm in the face of it all – for my peaceful / brain dead equilibrium where i go down while it all goes up, suddenly the ladder disappears and passed through a portal it would be impossible to try and fly to or find… erm let’s make this fun: my landing is only softened perhaps as much as in my life i chose to be kind. i.e if i were particularly unkind i’d be fucked, but as i weigh things up, hoping to sweet mother of fuck the procedure in purgatory was proper and actually looked; at the whole truth good and bad, not some colloquial concoction some conniving cunt has cooked, i don’t think i would – the person i am, intentions i have, the way things are – the concept of impending [regardless of whether it is real or not] divine / life-conclusive, reckoning / final score – presuming that my personal sense of moral governance, integrity, pleasure vs. pain my deeds have given or inflicted on / other unquantifiable by rational means;

reckoning right now or in the foreseeable somehow doesn’t particularly frighten me. here’s some perspective … for the rest of my life, i am constantly judged every day. at times i will catch glimpses of myself in targeted links / quite often in fact someone will say “i have stalked you on the internet” – there is a permanent publication spanning a number of press pages. some guy in belgium has even put me in his collection, or rather, repertoire. on a site about “unsolved murders” – i remember his belligerent defence of keeping my name on this shit, “it’s in the public domain, they said it’s unexplained, deal with it.” even though i wanted to fight it would only fail to remove my name on one website. if you’re a wanker who is here to take the piss out of me even though you’ve took it upon yourself to peruse through my shite, then trust me – my reckoning takes place every single day, i know the truth and if you’re telling me that i will be judged on the way i react or retaliate or hopelessly waste myself putting up some sort of fight – i’m not finished pouring my passion into the people and the things i hold most dear, such that even people who have never even heard my voice can find comfort and beauty in the essence of my stories printed on the pages they love to read when they can’t get to sleep at night

things might not be perfect or pretty between me and a number of people in real life, but the all-seeing eye can see through me no matter how much i might try and stop you from seeing owt with whatever potemkin dancing decoy it’s hiding behind. omnipotently, hypothetically, you could snatch away all of my thoughts and my feelings i will blush as i watch them being laid out at my feel and leave no secret or ambiguity left in there to find; but even though it doesn’t exactly put me on the proudest podium if at all, if i was reckoned right now based on what i want for myself and what satisfaction it would give me to see – even if they, like most people, don’t talk to me [much] any more – then sorry i don’t think i would be worried about what arbitrary lifetime legacy of moral substance, honesty, integrity, trusting / trustworthy – when the time comes if it came any time soon at least, the reckoning of me

there aren’t many of me known to still be in circulation. prominent collectors declared all out war the last time one of me unexpectedly came up for auction. there is something i don’t have to describe that makes it impossible for one rich twat to buy all of me and then just permanently keep them. in fact, some reason makes me impossible to buy in any given situation

i used to think that being rare is shit. since then i think i’ve evolved. even though there’s only one of me – and even still not so many – i feel like somehow i can be placed in a collection, at the same time relieved no one gets their kicks any more out of putting me under the perilous pressure any man will succumb sooner or later, the only variable being the sheer chance little lotteries that take place viz a viz becoming someone’s selection. something so subtle at least, completely eludes my common sense and escapes any chance of detection

if you dare to think, and feel, and care, and question, consider, examine, respect even – hold on tight, here comes a world shattering radical idea – love … hahaha, ridiculous. don’t underestimate me or pretend that you know the dance, because your steps will say whether you’re just bluffing or step by step never come my way, there’s no possible ruse left that anyone can portray anything other than a firm commitment to amount to the next level because one day there will be more about you and maybe teach me a thing or two and catch me off my guard when sooner or later you up the ante and reach me while you dance to the silly little tune, frivolous games that you play