If you take away God, there are even more. The fucking chiropractor of the disgruntled. Just another addiction, like sex drugs and alcohol. Get your fix and then you can handle the chaos a little while longer. But the need gets stronger. The voices of nothing drown out the choirs and congregations. You must draw something into yourself. You must find something that is real. Perhaps when flesh meets flesh, perhaps that is real. But it fades just as fast into memory, the hunger for a present. When there is nothingbutblackcoldsunlessdays, that thing inside crawls out, that thing that we run from so much because it is too real and too unpleasant, the pain that almost seems to reach through the veil of memory and touch your nerves. Because memory delivers pain loud and clear, ready to flood whatever illusions of joy you've been able to muster. When you are doubled up on the ground in pain, kissing the earth from which you came, begging to just go back to whatever abyss you came from, you have found something. Something to turn away from.

08/29/2007

Posted on 08/29/2007
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