PORTRAYAL OF ODIOUS ACCOUNTS

Can't believe she just left me like that. High and well...vapid. You know, nothing. There is nothing. None of them respond. And when I do reach out, it's too late. Shit. Is this the best I can do? I don't completely like them...not like that. I mean, I don't want marriage or babies. Not those two monsters. NO WAY! But a serious committed relation-ship? Yeah, sure, I'd like that. It would be good to try on for size, because I aint making it here alone. Not like this in the big house of my spiritual birth. No. Sure, there have been writings from here and caused from here, but it's over, done, gone...we HAVE to make some thing out of all this and we're not and it's depressing. The women come and go like wraiths in a dimly lit bar in an unincorporated area of Orange County, California, where the various law enforcement agencies who can cover it, out number the reivers.
The clothes they stack up, just like the books and the dust and memories. Can't get enough of them that they don't choke my room like the ginormous amount of piled high shoes make me stumble and fall from time to time. I kind of like it like that I guess I'd say. Must, else wise, we'd change it, no? Right. Change. Change the Change that you're going to Change...Change...Change...Frack!
Dammit! I'm lost again. I am always always lost, and this proves it. There's no hope for me. No hope. I won't do any thing ever again.
NO MORE will I ever have a great meal at a run of the mill restaurant that features local beer and an open pit grill. Great food and atmosphere but way too high in the prices...no one to go there with...no one to run with any more...but when was there ever that? When? When did it all end? When?
I'm the ghost. I look at the old phone book and there's no one in there I have a current name (last name/married) address or phone number for. It's depressing. Bothers me. Who to relate to? Who to see? Who calls? Who cares? NO ONE. It doesn't matter. Oh well. So what. Whatever. Never mind...moving on...moving...even that's a farce. Moving. That won't cure or save or salvage any thing. Not one iota. Not a bit. Just do your thing and get on with it. Get out already I guess is the thing. Get out. Move. After you've done it, move. You're not needed/wanted/of "concern" and so should be removed, just like a wart, the carbuncle you had on your neck a few months ago...funny thing that...it dissolved, back into the skin. I'll never look at a pimple the same way, ever again...and just wish we could stop shoving metal objects in my ear to clear out ear wax. It hurts. I don't need to do that...need glasses and sex. Must move on with that...but not do any thing stupid to get it...nothing so desperate as that. Never. NEVER!! NEVER!!!!