Insanity and a suicide note.

November 25, 2010 § Leave a comment


 “I heard it said you had come back from the dead” – Babyshambles – Back from the dead.

So here I go, just one last time. From the swimming depths of a vodka brain fuck. A spirit that never looses it’s effect or ability. I’m in love with a stranger but I always have been. Shit man. I mean it. If you’ve ever come close to knowing me you will understand this one. If you don’t you will look at me how the church tent would look at me at Reading festival, how the fucking sober kids would look at me in year 11, how my fucking friends would look at me when they didn’t understand. Silly brain. Your the cause of all this. There’s no way to hide from that. Maybe this drinking is the only thing giving my writing any fucking creditability, but I don’t tell people about it, never, ever, not even some of my closest friends. They worry about me, the ones I do tell. I left a message on one of their answer phones from a back alley where I am now. I told him I was a short enough walk from a long enough fall, but hey who’s keeping score? Not me. Was I serious? In a word, no. But that’s just a word and doesn’t tell the whole story. Fuck. I hope my friend doesn’t read this. I hope he looses interest like I was sure he would. I would always be very careful to keep how much of a fuck-up I am rattling around inside my own brain. What price creature comforts? Hell, this is straight up, lie down on the couch Mr. Blake you’ve paid for an hour of this shit. Fuck. I’m everything I said I won’t be. That’s rambling enough. Enough non nonsensical madness. Time to tell you what’s going on.

We picked Maxi’s ashes up with a kiss to his mother. We sat in the bar and we drank Tequila like someones bullet was screaming in at us. Worth it. Because we realised exactly where we should scatter the ashes. Well, sort of. We realised that the mistake we had been making was not where to scatter them, but HOW to scatter them. We took to a stolen car, drunk and screaming through the roads Tequila in one hand and ashes in the other, in the sun roof, Maxis‘ favourite seat, and just like that, with the music screaming in the way that gets the heart pumping faster than usual. The way it makes you feel like cocaine and speed without the awful come-down. Beware me, I’m everything I promised I would be. Like a puff of grey he was gone. Fuck him and his easy way out the lucky cunt. Maybe I just need sleep. I have been pushing insanity for a few days now. Fuck it. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. God. Your either due a pussying out or a fucking Pulitzer prize and a suicide note.

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