Posts Tagged ‘frustration’


Damn sleepless night

Head cramping

Legs restless

Frustration growing

Have a wank

An hour later still can’t sleep

Listening to music- triple J and RTR

Surfing across stations in search of calm vibes

Frustration growing

Trying to self-sooth to sleep with mantras, incantations diaphragmatic breathing

Waiting, waiting, waiting

Should I count sheep or guinea pigs?

But just can’t get there

Frustration growing

Get up

Read a book

Damn eyes are going

Can’t read the print

A curse on all people who sleep easily

A wish for some seriously strong sleeping pills

A fantasy of gnarly benzodiazepines

Mogadon me baby

Now, now, now

Fuck this shit

Fuck this shit

Fuck this shit


Looking at some slightly risqué pictures of Lana Del Rey while listening to her wonderfully melancholy music
I am overwhelmed with sadness old as time
So far away
The ultimate unobtainable woman
Projecting sophisticated sensuality
Oozing essence of fuck
And the most depressing truth of all
Is that it seems that all women are as unobtainable as Lana Del Rey to me



I could tell I’d freaked you out
You said ‘That’s offensive especially for women. Let’s stop talking about that stuff.’
And my stomach knotted into a ball, and my balls crawled up inside me
I thought of how lonely for female company I was
How desperate to impress
I realized I’d blown it and been offensive
Oh God, don’t let me be a servant of the patriarchy
I don’t want to oppress anyone
My language about my flirting lessons is not appropriate
My attitude to women is not appropriate
It has a hint of hunger
It has a hint of lust
It has a hint of objectification
It has a hint of sexism
It has a stench of fear
It has a stench of desperation
It has a stench of ignorance
It has a stench of idolatry
I don’t want to be a gibbering maniac with a rapist mind
Please don’t think I’m a monster or a creeper
I’m just so lonely that I feel like I’m dying inside from the ground up
Inch by inch turning into a statue
Soon to be made a psychological eunuch
By sexual deprivation, frustration and loneliness

Once again I’m in a condition of too many women and not enough social skills
OT honours students have invited me to an end of year party
So many pulchritudinous women that my brain rolls back in my skull and my balls clench back up into my body
Social workers there as well and you can tell them from OTs.
OTs are straight and the social workers are urban pretentious hipsters- my kind of people
Like poets
I am transformed to a heightened state of social awareness thanks to several pints of stout
I converse with them all and they are all friendly, smiling and pure, but I don’t sense any sexual tension or moments of intimacy
I have a fantastic time even though there are too many women and not enough social skills
One of the girls takes me home
I ask her if she wants to meet my guinea pigs
She says no.

The girls at Uni walk on by,
And I can never catch their eye.
Here I am in paradise and I feel like a lost child!
Fleeting instamatic glances across the forecourt,
Or a smile at a distance,
And I begin to feel alive.
And they are fresh and young like morning dew on petunias,
And I feel old and corrupt like a haunted house.

The girls at Uni walk on by,
And I am feeling really fried.
Dancing through the sunlight like a thousand fireflies,
Skipping down the pathway in pretty summer dresses with a flower pattern,
Nubile, soft and succulent, buxom and bodalicious.
But I cannot say a word of friendship or love,
My mouth is full of sand.

One day I’ll speak,
And say ‘Hi, how are you going?’
And if no-one reports me for sexual harassment,
We’ll converse about a range of topics,
Of Christmas trees and sealing wax,
Of guinea pigs and nonviolence and trinity as community,
Of subtlety and perfidy and effigies,
And maybe she’ll like me,