Posts Tagged ‘coffee’

dirtyroom

Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a squat
A homes-westy kind of festering junkie den of dankness
When there’s crap all over the floor and dirty plates creating no stepping zones
The coffee table hasn’t been cleaned in months has black impasto layers of dirt
Just missing a couple of skanky junkie prostitutes nodding off in the corner
Now that would be cool

My sheets have a substantial amount of sand, dirt and guinea pig poo on them
Fortunately they’re black
I can never keep the doona cover on, so the doona is a dirty white slug on my bed
There are empty cigarette butts on the floor as I have been raiding my butt collection
It’s a miracle I get out of the place looking clean and moderately respectable sometimes
The wonders of showers and deodorant I guess

I wonder if I’d clean up my act for a good woman
Perhaps- anything is possible though not probable
I do kind of love my filth
I revel in many forms of corruption and depravity
So do the guinea pigs
They are piggies like me

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grimreaper

Light bulbs blow
Coffee cups break
Glass shatters to shards
Hard drives corrupt
Entropy increases

Eyes grow dull and blind
Flesh rots to dust and feeds worms
Bodies wrinkle and bend
Hair becomes grey and brittle
Entropy increases

Cigarettes become cigarette butts
Cars rust to worthlessness
Buildings are knocked over to build more buildings
Every pet you ever had dies
Entropy increases

It’s inevitable
You can’t push back the tide of entropy
We are born, we die, we rot
The grim reaper is always at the door, his skull-face locked in a grimace
Entropy increases

loneliness2

Understand the solitary man
Burnt out tree lost in a forest of loneliness
Pebble under an infinite mountain
He puts on a mellow album
Smokes a couple of cones
Lights mandarin flavoured incense
Stares at the dirty plates and empty drink bottles surrounding him and recoils at how dirty the coffee table is
Considers doing the washing
Considers moving the dirty plates to the kitchen
Doesn’t move

His mental soliloquy:
“Oh my filth, my precious filth
No-one can tell me to clean up
At least I know where things are
Oh God ,I’m getting fat
My back aches when I walk
I’m going to die alone in a rented room
From a heart attack or lung cancer
Or I’ll get diabetes and someone will chop off my leg”

Paranoia, paranoia most foul in lonely rooms all over the world where excess men who nobody wants live out their pathetic lives
His personal space is small
No-one wants to invade it
His dreams are always full of women
But his life is empty of them
Too depressed to jerk off but soaked in longing
Waiting for death
Understand the solitary man

lonely-person-thumb-300x240-27530

Solitary Man
Dead inside
Aching all over
Fading away for want of a good woman
When will you come, insatiable one?
Woman with eyes of fire and sensuous curves
Woman of wisdom with gorgeous hips and pouting lips
Woman with ripe breasts and marvellous hips
Woman from my deep unconscious, loving and healing with abandon
Woman- a heavenly angel who burns down my personal hell

Solitary man
Bent and rendered kinky by loneliness
In a room with precious cuddly guinea pigs
Unhygienic trash and garbage all over the place
Miscellaneous crap on the floor
Dirty coffee cups and plates
Full ashtrays and empty energy drink cans
Underpants drying on top of the TV

Solitary Man
Trying not to listen to the song of solitude in his heart
Blocking it all out with beers, bongs and fags
Anxious and depressed beyond rational thought
Skirting psychosis in paranoia
Getting weirder and weirder inside his mental psych ward
Longing for love in mastarbatory moonlight
Pacing the room with his balls blue as the sky
Scratching and scraping the bones of reality

Solitary Man
Imploding