Oh, I'm Doing Some Crazy Things Again


i read and post in alt.troll, always
careful now to trim the groups,
but i post there.

i'm back to reading the kooks
(did i ever tell you what i posted
there once, long ago, when i
had just started this strange
and terrifying journey into
usenet? 'could you please
pull my plug and disconnect
me', or something. i knew
even then what was to come,
i knew the shape and taste
of this, if not the name) and
n.a.n.u and i have found new
groups (thank you, raz) to
throw the bile that is my rage
into when it is not appropriate or
wise to post it where its source
waits to slash some more at my
tender skin.

i subscribed to alt.usenet.recovery
with great expectations and am sadly
disappointed by the lack of usenet
junkies there with whom to share
this madness.

i went back and visited alt.myke,
but i dare not post things there
as it's not "safe."


like anyplace is "safe" here.
everywhere i go, test posts
pop up. one said, "test.
sorry, this has to be here."
and i wondered, why?
why does it have to be HERE,
where i am, EVERYWHERE
i am.

paranoia will fuck you up.

the birds are loud this morning.

there is much physical beauty
in the place where i live; mountains,
rivers as wide as the arms of a mother
as she coaxes her child's first steps.
alabama skies are the bluest i've
ever seen. it's a consistent thing.
always blue or gray. i've seen
sunrises that made me forget to
breathe, they were so beautiful,
sunsets that really make me cry.

but this doesn't feel like home.
it feels like banishment. i forget
sometimes and whisper knapper's
name when i have sex. this frightens
and yet, oddly, reassures me. i can't
explain the paradox, i can only wonder
at it.

maybe soon these words will arrange
themselves into an order that will
explain to me just what the fuck is
wrong with me lately.

or not.

edged out again on life

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