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  • This is my Blog...There are many like it, but this one is mine...

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        Saturday, April 26, 2008

    Do You Ever...

    ...get one of those genuine 'veins in your teeth' moments? And no, I'm not talking about cock-veins, faggot.

    What do you people do? You humans? Let's say you can kill anyone you want, in a violent explosion of blood and spray and fire, and you really, really want to, well, how do you stop it? The demon?

    I have bitten my cheek until I swallow blood, and held the edge of my hand in the crack of a door, and squeezed until tears of pain squirted out of my eyes. How do you keep from slaughtering? Do you just like Nancy Reagan, say no?

    It is not in me to harm a hair on the heads of anyone I care about. I think. I hope. But that is a very short list. And I resolved not to kill my ex, even though she clearly needed it. She was part of my kid's lives, and it would have fucked them up. The only loophole is self-defense, and I pray often that she steps into that coil of rope, there on the forest floor. Goodness knows, she is both stupid and crazy enough to try it.

    Oh Dear God, a video of what I would do to her and her cohorts would make a hardened homicide detective vomit. Give me an excuse. Please.

    Fuck, I hate myself. I hate what I am. With me, there is no Dark Side. Just a deep, empty well, that echoes with screams, and the fires of Hell glitter down there, so deeply that they do not disturb the black ink that swirls around the inside. Drama? You fucking wish. The last sound on this earth you will hear is the crunch of your larynx, which I will have crushed, quite by accident. I'll be (kinda) sorry, you'll be (kinda) dead.

    And I can't stop it. Johnny stepped on the top of my foot the other night, and the back of my fist went into his right kidney before I could stop it, and sure, I was able to pull it (the punch, not his kidney) but still, he arched in a bow of agony, and I am still apologizing for it. And he is still forgiving me.

    The wife spars with me, and watches my eyes, even though I have tried to train that out of her. Watch the hands, and all movement comes from the spine. She watches my eyes, to see if they change. If they go dark, and 'away'. When that happens, she jumps back, and waves her arms, and shouts to get my attention.

    And I didn't feel a thing.

    I really hate myself.

    Please don't confuse this with your standard Emo self-hatred, a plea for help, or anything more than a dog who has just crawled under the porch to die, because he senses it is imminent.

    And do not ever confuse me with someone who gives a shit. Because I am not alone. And one day you will, I guarantee you, run across someone who's not as well adjusted and well behaved as I am. Rue that day.

    My kind slaughters its way through your kind like a wolf kills a flock of chickens. Both figuratively, and literally. I have often wondered if we are another genus of Homo Erectus. I know the wife is coming back to the house when she is six blocks away. When she thinks about calling me, I call her. I see in the dark. Have a nose as sensitive as a dog's. Heal in hours from cuts. Though that particular talent has slown down as I have abused my liver beyond all bounds of human propriety.

    Do we stand as sentinels against the Darkness? Were we made 'special', to stand cold and strong, and vicious, against the encroachment of the Night? I have no idea. And a peculiar aspect of my condition is that I do not possess an ego, the pride, which caused the Lightbearer to Fall, and take so many with him. Do we straddle both Darkness, and Light, and are we called to Great Deeds?

    Fuck, I pray God I am not. I am old, and tired.

    And vicious.