Swallowing Villans and Lovers at Postcrypt

Should I be angry at myself for being so helplessly predictable and needing him so much to want me and to need me... For not having the strength to spit anymore...

Or should I accept that I am pathetic and desperately lonely to the point where it drives me to villains disguised as lovers... He loves me until he cums... but is that enough to sustain me? God...

And I'm at Postcrypt with B now, against the yellow and black velvet shadows and he only makes me realize what this weakness all ever was to begin with. The more I live the more I realize how everyone is "only human," the less I wish to be human and the less I am hopeful of what I once dreamed of. In fact, I hardly remember such a dream against the constraints of the world in which its conceiver exists...

And I am supposed to go to the movies with E-the-R tonight.

And I want to cry...and have it back... have my misery back... have myself back... ANYTHING besides this empty plastic and smiling isolation that only makes me want to stone another human being to death.

And I am sitting here with B, but we are both so alienated... from ourselves and from each other. And the tears have gelled, but they just won't drop... As most things won't until they are torn out.

But how does one save oneself when justice is already being administered? How can one swallow "deserve" and truck oneself into believing that he meant it and that those moments of short breathes and the heat of sleep were what's real... And somehow, then it is always reconstructed as my will... And in some warped way, it always is...

And he is right. I do bring this on myself... I ask for all of it and so I must swallow it in more ways that one... Brace myself against my will and swallow...

And finally, when there is a story, I am left completely dumbfounded, inarticulate and drowning in the words that are left unexpressed.