Pray It's Malignant
And now, some words from Henry Rollins:
I want to meet a woman who will make my jaw drop in awe. A woman that has little time for me. One who respects herself, who has a sense of herself. Where is she? I wish she was here right now.
Walking wounded and dazed. Is there anyone alive out there tonight? I hear rain falling. I hear cars passing. I see shapes moving but I can't be sure. I have a rotten, recurring feeling that rips through me. A desperate longing for what, I don't know. I walk, thinking that it might come to me, that I might be able to get my hands around its throat and strangle it. I want to kill it because it wants to kill me. I say kill all the enemies in my brain. The monster stalks the streets in search of itself. Regret, I'll kill that guy. Despair, shoot him. Loneliness, come forward, I want to disfigure you. I want to turn you on yourself and make you see what you do to people. I want you to see the blood and the anger. I want you to feel the sullen lump that finds itself in my throat when you come in. I want to lock you up in solitary and watch you destroy yourself. I am going to make sure you go as slow as possible. I want you to taste every drop. You're going to find out what hell is like. You're going to see that it's you. To make things as bad as I can, I'm going to give you little breaks from yourself. I'll give you shot glasses full of the finest companionship. I'll get you hooked. Then, when all you want is the next fix, I'm going to cut you off and you will be left all alone with yourself. And then you will know what we all know. You will scream like we all scream. You will feel the pain. I don't know if you'll be able to survive yourself. That's a terrifying thought, isn't it? Well, good, we all go through it.
Have you ever tried to outrun yourself? Lose yourself in a crowd, hide from yourself in the stall of a bathroom? Take on a new attitude to fool yourself into thinking that you're someone else? Me too. Same thing every time. At the end, it's always you holding onto yourself. Out of breath, self-humiliated, hot footed, red handed and hopelessly human.
I want to meet a woman who will make my jaw drop in awe. A woman that has little time for me. One who respects herself, who has a sense of herself. Where is she? I wish she was here right now.
Walking wounded and dazed. Is there anyone alive out there tonight? I hear rain falling. I hear cars passing. I see shapes moving but I can't be sure. I have a rotten, recurring feeling that rips through me. A desperate longing for what, I don't know. I walk, thinking that it might come to me, that I might be able to get my hands around its throat and strangle it. I want to kill it because it wants to kill me. I say kill all the enemies in my brain. The monster stalks the streets in search of itself. Regret, I'll kill that guy. Despair, shoot him. Loneliness, come forward, I want to disfigure you. I want to turn you on yourself and make you see what you do to people. I want you to see the blood and the anger. I want you to feel the sullen lump that finds itself in my throat when you come in. I want to lock you up in solitary and watch you destroy yourself. I am going to make sure you go as slow as possible. I want you to taste every drop. You're going to find out what hell is like. You're going to see that it's you. To make things as bad as I can, I'm going to give you little breaks from yourself. I'll give you shot glasses full of the finest companionship. I'll get you hooked. Then, when all you want is the next fix, I'm going to cut you off and you will be left all alone with yourself. And then you will know what we all know. You will scream like we all scream. You will feel the pain. I don't know if you'll be able to survive yourself. That's a terrifying thought, isn't it? Well, good, we all go through it.
Have you ever tried to outrun yourself? Lose yourself in a crowd, hide from yourself in the stall of a bathroom? Take on a new attitude to fool yourself into thinking that you're someone else? Me too. Same thing every time. At the end, it's always you holding onto yourself. Out of breath, self-humiliated, hot footed, red handed and hopelessly human.
posted by Ben at 1:43 AM
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