writing used to be my life (suicide note #12)

originally written 07/07/07

I stopped smoking for the last hour of my life after the ashtray on my coffee table floated it's contents through my window's blind. Are they blind? Do I leave them spread for you to see, I mean I fucking masturbate on my couch and I'm to lazy to camoflauge my love sequences i make to myself, I wonder if you watch me from that top window? It's not intended, it's not i swear, it's like when I come home drunk and talk to myself real loud and just forget to close the windows....In my army trenches in the mouths of third party scavangers. Do you get pissed I run my vaccume cleaner at four a.m., here inside my little heaven? I think I heard that once, "what is that kid in apartment three on?" I dunno, a whole lot of you shouldn't be giving a damn. I skipped spots for sentimental reasoning. The L to Brooklyn is my dictated cavern of a poverty stricken mind. Standing in a state of inertia in a bathtub full of lungs in my shower of alcohol withdraw to the cold arms of love to the, "cops is on so shut the fuck up!"

(...It's 2:33 and what am I doing... I dunno...what do you want me to do? Ah you're so dirty. Let's drink wine...not white... red and watch some french films.)

Well neighbor, my cat ran away so he wont run into your aparmtent anymore and I even got some flowers and put them on the fire escape to be more like you. I mean I'm better than you but I have this thing where I try doing things that relate to normal people. It's like how my mom wanted me to be a doctor and so I started playing doctor on you, my past, until I accidently cut you and that makes me even more fucked up but I know that and you, YOU're sick, cause you liked that about me. I could care less you're gone. Why do you want me to be a mess, was it cute?
The only time I've belonged in this city so far was in the pathway of your observation, screaming "Here I am, here I am, meet me on rooftops, meet me on rooftops! Meet me as high as telephone wires." I hate when I get looks in bars but you both looked at me like a memory, ha. maybe a cemetry... maybe like I was the modern day christ crucified on a telephone pole. I dropped my halo like my drink, so, it was alright.
I'm ostentatious throughout a great deal of realms but the existance I extend is pretty subjective and at times.. likley bias. Yeah, I'm black and white... Why doesn't this entry need to be long?...Cause some things arn't meant to be long.
Yeah, you became perfection but you'll always be the ashtray in my smoking section.

remember that night we got caught smoking pot on your rooftop and had to run from the cops, i was never in love with my life as much as i was then.

I have no advice, cause noone takes advice.

"The bourgeoisie has stripped of its halo every occupation hitherto honoured and looked up to with reverent awe. It has converted the physician, the lawyer, the priest, the poet, the man of science, into its paid wage labourers."-taken from the communist manifesto