And things are ok now
But I never know
When it’s going to change
Uncertainty is the underwear model I lust after. Chaos, my caretaker. Had to sexualize the fear or it’d paralyze me. Kiss disease. Dance in the dark with plague. Take a hit of heroin with heartbreak. Taking pills just to pass the time. I can’t ever say no. Move around by the motion of methamphetamine. Make so many mistakes. To make love to the madness. A danger I know. The shadow me that used to follow me, every step. Echo every sound I made. Became the king of his own death discotheque, and I was just a fucking observer in my own life.
You think you have lost your faith
But you have only misplaced your faith
And I saw a kiss like a stab. French kiss a sword swinging away at my cheeks. A hand held like decapitation. Don’t pique my heart, it’ll phantom. I was Samson and all those dudes in Naughty Pig underwear on slings. That took me to coffee. Tried to caress me in cotton sheets in crackwhore motels in the shifty sois of Sathorn I frequent every week. Soothe me, I’ll cut them with words, cantankerous. They, they were my Delilah. I grew darkness like a mane. It fell to the floor in long strands of strong as fuck mental energy. Each hair one of my own personal warriors. My army was made of millions. And they grew longer every time they lost. They lost all the time. 0-13,567 their record. I was strong at being weak. And I was the strongest in the weakest of times. A fragility that’d fuck anyone up; but that I didn’t fight my way through.
Fighting would be flinging your fisticuffs away. Fighting is not fucking up the face of anyone going in for a hug. Fighting is feeling. Feeling is stillness. People picking you up, trusting they’ll put you down. Not throw you in the middle of a highway right after you broke your leg. Too many moving parts. Even for someone always in motion. To rely on people. To fight for your life. To feel. Too fucking much.
Go on a journey of love and forgiveness
You can’t forgive and love others
Until you love and forgive yourself
You have to realize people are fallible beings
I never knew if my dog days were over. Or the damn party I’d be living in, forever. Maybe I better ask you to come here, my hot and sweaty Delilah. Covered in chest hair and the smell of a Bangkok nightclub. The filth of a motel that those with the most to live for avoid, making you fucked like me. Cut my hair. Kill shadow me. Make me lose the madness. The feeling like it’ll never be ok. Earthquakes incoming, every maybe second.
Delilah: I want to fight to win.