i write about death dying and murder all the time, my nickname is slasher suzie among my writer type pals.
knowing i have always had the capicity for such a violent act, going back to the zylmor wars but on earth my world has been around peaceful movements, not rocking the boat and going with the flow, allowing violence to happen to me and those closest to me but without raising even a whimper of dissent. this has changed and i am finding little solace in my zylmor past. things i have not done for an age are becoming increasingly enticing.
i find myself in contemplative mood, haven't spoken to a single person in four days the tenous hold on my sanity is again ebbing away to the dark deep recesses i last experienced more than ten years ago.
some thirty years ago i was on the peripherary of a drug fuelled chaos that maintained itself in the house i resided. being younger than most involved i could have joined in but some hold kept me out, so i could record the bad trips, the fabulously outrageous voyages that those around me travelled on. now i wish for some oblivion, some unfeeling unseen calm that those in euphoria sensed, they say H is better than sex, but what is better than life. some of those that were there found out, blind pete who sold his sax for one more hit, angelina who chased her own demons across continents and now rests in peace.
others like ruth and simon survived in unique ways and neither remember the nights in fields above the village hounded by wolves snakes and spiders, revolving around space invaders playing kiss and tell with moon....
knowing i have always had the capicity for such a violent act, going back to the zylmor wars but on earth my world has been around peaceful movements, not rocking the boat and going with the flow, allowing violence to happen to me and those closest to me but without raising even a whimper of dissent. this has changed and i am finding little solace in my zylmor past. things i have not done for an age are becoming increasingly enticing.
i find myself in contemplative mood, haven't spoken to a single person in four days the tenous hold on my sanity is again ebbing away to the dark deep recesses i last experienced more than ten years ago.
some thirty years ago i was on the peripherary of a drug fuelled chaos that maintained itself in the house i resided. being younger than most involved i could have joined in but some hold kept me out, so i could record the bad trips, the fabulously outrageous voyages that those around me travelled on. now i wish for some oblivion, some unfeeling unseen calm that those in euphoria sensed, they say H is better than sex, but what is better than life. some of those that were there found out, blind pete who sold his sax for one more hit, angelina who chased her own demons across continents and now rests in peace.
others like ruth and simon survived in unique ways and neither remember the nights in fields above the village hounded by wolves snakes and spiders, revolving around space invaders playing kiss and tell with moon....
No comments:
Post a Comment