Claiming “this” and “that” is one thing, but actions do speak louder than words, and yours reek of cheap and cheerful, of vulgarity, mediocrity, of the dirty gutter – common things as easy to pick up as they are to throw away. Lies, double standards, hypocrisy, a fuddled brain, a shallow whore with delusions of grandeurs…clichés abound when you’re around and come out in an avalanche swallowing everything in its destructive path.
You’re littering the pavements of my mind with your chimerical statements – let me breathe in the night air, let the rain wash away the filthy dirt insinuating itself everywhere, inside my throat, binding my vocal cords, invading my lungs, making my breathing laboured and shallow.
Was it all nothing? Was it all for nothing? It appears so, a quest to capture my aura, drain me of my energy and time…steal my reflection to improve your own image, hoping a little bit of gold dust would rub off on you — the vultures are well-fed and plump, the fair maiden was depleted and withered for a while, but she’s back in the saddle again, a fierce Amazon with a sword in her hand, riding to new lands, and fuck help anybody getting in her way.
Do you see hearts and flowers here? How did you ever? When was it that you became a narcissist? And how did I never notice? Years of friendship and my psychic abilities never triggered that warning, I guess I was always blind when it came to you. Was it my ability to dream? My never-ending supply of empathy? When you touched me everything exploded, all that fucking chemistry wasted, how did I not realise what you wanted was an ultimate fantasy, how did I not know you’d start to hate me the minute I began having power over you…and for fuck sake, why did you come to me when you can only handle ordinary? Every twist of the knife… your revenge for making you feel something, upsetting the applecart, disturbing your perfectly organised, totally sterile world.
You love me and you hate me…you’re an unfinisher of stories… I’m wise to you…and you still say to me… “we”…as in you and I…as if you hadn’t annihilated that “we”, rolled it in the mud and had wild horses trample all over it…the “we” that allows you to re-write history and pretend it wasn’t just you who smashed everything to smithereens…who’s living in a dream world of hearts and flowers now?
It is undeniable that for the first time in so long, I’ve written about you. You’re just going to love it, aren’t you? Wank baby, wank…over my words like you do over my pictures, if it’s enough then I do feel sorry for you. Just be aware that despite all evidence to the contrary, this wasn’t really about you.
I love both images of Leda and the Swan and although I preferred the first one, I couldn’t bring myself not to use the second one as well. Image credit: starkafterdarkonline.com and painting by Alexey Golovin @saatchiart.com