Out of Control

When the wind was soft in a new neighbourhood,
Did I play Indiana Jones with the garage door,
When it was summer and I broke my arm,
When things were pleasant, all at the cottage,
Where my brother or me was slapped for drinking a beer?
I guess it all began then,
In the car, above the garage,
With light coming in through the windows,
Smoking cigarettes.
That’s when I ...
Now I can’t think of much without feeling fucked up,
Always feeling at a loss,
Out of control and far from peace, from peace,
from calm, from my sense of myself, a fucked
frame \ sensed floating through, rigid, pained,
crushed, uptight, yearning
Largely for peace and slithers, That’s all, ...
Each time man I feel like I could fucking
Rage.
Any association, any verb or thought regarding it,
makes me want to fucken rage.
I’m always looking around waiting for something to
Jump up and fuck me over, all the fucking time,
Just an impressionable cunt ...
Today,
How can I ever begin to think that a threesome is alright,
How can I ever feel that any sex or fantasy is alright
without it being fucked up, without it grating your
fucken soul apart and taking you off track. How
else can I do that? What else can I think ? How
can I let go of all that, and with her? Just feeling
so fucken trapped and pinned down by all of this,
so fucked ...
Years later, fucked, fucked, fucked
No calm, no peace, no matter, no nothing, just fucked.
At times it feels too beyond, all too tiring to
imagine anything but this pain.
Too much pain fucking sucks.
I’m just finding it harder to think positively about this
in any way.
It only lasts for about one hour now;
Stubbornly, with reluctance, I fall to that world of dark,
deep pain, rage, emptiness.


C.