Start of eschatonIIIsequence under construction

eschatonIIIsequence i

Drugs are a dangerous tool for the metaphysically inclined mind to ride and try to work with.

Diet is a much neglected field for the manic-depressive individual hell-bent on getting any better.

I am experimenting with high fat/protein diets in the hope I feel at least energetic in my choice of future.

Letting go of the meds is a tricky one to try and track professionally.

Alcohol is a tough one to drop, like smoking: the socially accepted status the two of these enjoy is tantamount to prescription.

Routine is a difficult one to pin down when your life has been chaos and reacting to chaos for twenty years.

My routine spans at least two or three days: I try and establish what I need to withdraw and wait till I can go and get it.

Much easier to make a phonecall and to have it all delivered.

I don’t even want to write a new book, I just don’t know what else I’d do other than writing.

And if I’m not writing I’m doing damage to myself. Much better to damage the preconceptions out there other people have; I want to infect my readers.

And just like that we turn out a page. This text I‘ll take my time with.

You the page are my only companion, my confessional; if I had anyone to confess to I would write a poem.

I have hit a young man when I was wankered; I’m positive I never intended to hit him. 

A flurry of teenage arms and screams shocked me entirely; I believe I reacted to this.

Things would never be the same with his mother, my most missed and important lover. I understand although I was regularly hit.

The male place in the home has become shaky, as women are empowered, and this isn’t a bad thing.

All I wanted to do was be useful, I’d reward anyone who’d let me be this.

I overextended my will-to-help until it ceased to be helpful. I’d criticise the ways of the mother of my kids.

I’ve never understood the way of hoarding.

I travel light, that is a part of my anxiety. I’m always waiting for the bombshell to hit.

Still I provoke and shake-up the bomb casing. I take the fire and fury to it.

In many ways I’m as confident and optimistic as warriors, although the last thing I want is a fight.

I want a no-holds-barred frank discussion. I am armed and well-armoured for this.

My solitude grows harder to deal with. I am incapable of a personal bliss.

Masturbation is a time and space killer: I won’t lie: it is something I miss.