Belvedere Jehosophat - Thursday, 16 February 2012
Deliquesce, that is the word for it: to become fluid with age. It’s a trait shared by certain fungi. This is called cowardice in those about to die, the dog’s tail tucked firmly between the legs, teeth bared and trembling. Ave, morituri te salutamus.
Thank christ for the salmon coloured pills, 100mg etcenlafaxine, but where is the redeemer in all this? At his car, kicking the wheels because he backed a piece of shit. It’s time to call it quits. Bring out the dead and point ‘em at a future that looks like a lot like a boot to the face.
Another word – kaizen. Not the usual trajectory, though. Not up, but down. Engaged in the process of falling apart: not at the seams, quickly, but like a pair of slacks dragging on the ground leaving little trailings of cotton; a slow unravelling. Walking around like a grimy pigeon in heat with a tendency to be hypnotised by faulty city lights.
Cracks appear in your moral code and the rest is reverse engineered into oblivion. You don’t even have to leave your seat. Ah, reverse engineering – pulling the butterfly from the knife, the elephant from the gun – the complete betrayal of a parents’ sweet guidance.
I never could be with someone who wanted me twice in a row, so I go where all good rats go for fun, and I’ll always carry the can like the cunt that I am.