Sunday, 19 January 2014

Anthracitic Moron

I am not myself today. Anthracite poisoning? Well, just dirty old housecoal really. I just like the word anthracite. So, let there be anthracite. And the heavens and the waters separated and it was jolly good of course, despite Beelzebub.

But still, waking naked with the sick realisation that my teeth were about to break, and that I had consumed half a lump of coal. I wasn't even drunk, more's the pity. My guts have felt rather rotten all day. Not looking forward to the scratchy poo.

I burned what was left of the lump.

My head has been going strange. I am still well enough to notice the cracks, chasms, rifts, slits in time and space, but not well enough to understand how or when I am crossing them - oh tricksy tightrope of cunnilingual nonsense! Yes I get scared sometimes, though I can inspect myself (O brave clinician!) but that's no use for the crevasse wanking.

Strange lycanthropic leprosy of the mind. Lunacy not idiocy. This world disgusts me. I'm sure it was seeing that inevitable ghastly headline about that poor Edinburgh toddler finished me off last night.

Plan. Boys are delighted to be allowed to cook. Everyone needeth bathing, baptismal batholitic scrubs and operations to be as white as snow wash me in the water you washed your dirty daughter in... Clean clothes for school. Tainted world.

Looked down a well today, guess what it told me? Crammed with invisible corpses of course. What else shouldn't be in there?

I reflected on the last six years last night until I held them in my mouth like a worm-blushed plum. And then verily I lost my clothes and ate coal and I don't know how I got there.

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