Sunday, 22 March 2009

For some reason my LSD days have been coming up again.

Happiness is not a brown microdot while watching Pink Floyd's - The Wall.

I think when you have sat through that experience you can say you have made some kind of grade in the LSD fraternity. Probably should have those letters after my name. I am amazed I dont have a number tattooed on my wrist and a white front door with big locks on. I understand this is nothing to be proud of.

But why after so many years is this stuff coming up for me at the moment? Maybe my body is finally offloading all the highs I put myself through: 2ci, 2cb, dmt, lsd, heroin, crack, smack, ice, cocaine, glue, petrol, tippex thinners, you name it and we take it in the search for that unnameble something.

maybe just some fucking peace from the demons.

I stick to booze and cigarettes now. and have for the last year or so. Life is too fucking insane as it is to be honest. I dont need the additionals. The demons are all still there of course. I wouldnt say being straight is a great substitute. In fact most days I really dont like it one bit.

so insomnia has become my new unwanted friend.

And I am pretty sure it is related to the drug years the more I find myself waking up to it. spangled mindage. I was supposed to be dead before I got 32 like all good rock stars, and here I am 10 years on still walking about like a gormless grinning guppy.

god decided to make it a slow kill.

but I could swear the sharks are circling.

but nevermind that old chestnut, what of insomnia...

I wake at usually somewhere between 2 and 4am and my mind is off like a rabid dog salivating after some such nonsense that seems so relevant at that time of day. 2 hours later I realise I have been thinking over and over some inconsequential moment, yesterday morning it was an acid trip some 20 years ago.


the fucking sad thing is that Hunter S Thompson really paved the way to the truth about drugs that all of us high-seekers completely ignore. That in the end, after you stop taking them and the audience stops laughing at how funny you are, you are left with a mind that is confused and a shotgun that is loaded. I mean, blowing your head off while talking to the wife on the phone is a bit off really, it says a lot. It was the inspiration for me to really try to stop so....hell....maybe he did do something good.

There is no pain you are receding
a distant ship smoke on the horizon
you are only coming through in waves
your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying
when I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse
out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
the child has grown the dream has gone
I have become comfortably numb

I got up at 4am after waiting for my mind to give it a rest. twenty minutes and I couldnt get it under control. I was pissed off actually and hung out my bathroom window looking at the night and smoking. Staring at the cages on the neighbours windows and seeing how much my life is like that. Just bars up. I do everything to escape these chains. I got high to escape these chains. I will die to escape these chains. Just let me the fuck out of this pain that goes round and round without any kind of god damn answer to it.

I read all the healing books, I have done Vipassana, gone to doctors, gone to healers, shamans, lovers, friends, the wise, the insane, the truth. I meditate two or three times a day. I give up the drugs. I give up the fucking lot and am left with these 4am suicidal insanities. They fuck with me deeply.

I wont do it. I dont own a shotgun and I am far too chicken shit. I just live on the dark side of the moon and watch the sun go down each day and know the demons will return tonight, and I will see them and know them and still they will control some part of me I never even liked.

this isnt self pity. It is just the question. inspired by friends who know exactly this same fucked up story because my friends seem to know this pain too. and you probably do too. and thats what makes all this so fucking strange. here we are. wanting salvation and getting nothing but more shit for our troubles.

its the head. the god damn head. the thing I got high to escape. and now I can't even do that anymore. son of a bitch.

watch the sharks circle.
not long now
and this will be the last fists up, try to act brave, give a good final showboat fight in the chaos of all this nonsense.
punch something, a little blood
I'll feel good about that, as I go down.
asking god if my face hurt his fist.

fuck it frankly, none of us ever had a hope, just a lie. I hate the lie.

but I guess in truth, I am still grateful for it all, how strange is that. The love especially. The love was what made it all worth it. To love. Just once or twice. Thankyou for that if nothing else.

I am nose up to The Wall again.
but there is nothing here.
nothing at all.
there never was.
just emptiness in space.

I put the cigarette out, go back to bed alone.

I look at the clock - 5.35am.
put a t-shirt over my head and wonder what comes next.

I will stay here.
I will get up tomorrow and go through it all again.
I will try to get through
to better myself as a person
and all that crap,
to rise up,
to surface from this ocean of dark death,
darker past,
and the deep emotional disturbances
I hide from in the day.