A rebel without a clue.

Looking back at my casual remarks related to the opposite sex I appear to be obsessed with 'finding' someone female.  Even as I was fleeing the modern world and while pushing myself to achieve so much I ran into this concept. It suggests I expect my life to be better with something I have never understood (and I wonder ever needed?) This commentary must be false as I know no other mode.  Forty one years under the belt without any selfless relationship between them and I. Sometimes the ego takes over and I part to let it's clumsy needs spring across and make me appear thoughtless, cruel, crude, childish and desperate. If I was aware of this as it happened I would resist it instantly and intently until I had resolved my unreasonable urges. Seeing women as just a body and not as either a person or a mind must be overcome. Is it possible that I am a sexist and is this why I am walking these streets alone? At some point I really didn't care to feel so empty and luckily I wa...

Tomato sauce and black pepper, because there is no HP, is a compliment to rancid bacon. Bacon rendered rubbery or brittle; very thick and too thin. Waiting in the dark for Monday to appease with warm embrace and moist lipped kisses coffee dramas and caffeine dreams. The background hiss of the universe dwells with me and, almost beyond fear, the A1 summons a million demons.  Hallucinations surround my nocturnal thoughts, vivid challenges from fictitious ghost recalling numerous failed degrees.

Retracing my mind's path over the last couple of months I find it is locked on a collision course with thoughts of a previous fool. Luckily I redeemed it for my own sake in time over the course of an autumnal weekend hidden. Lingering on Saturday with a broken hangover and retiring early from crowded threatening Leeds City Centre, after a none ideal trip via hybrid shaking silver bus, I left the world beyond the window pane (I so recently serenaded) to another grey gun metal zero. It is now a question of reform and order again otherwise I will be fighting my twisted hand for the pistol I meant to drop.

October rain appalls against the window pane and I listen in the half light to another era - Let Me Roll It, Paul McCartney and Wings, Band On The Run 1973 - PAS 10007 Stereo (Apple). Autumn came at us without warning on Wednesday and it is drawing all the nights in (Summer is a grayed 2B hatched marble history). Drifts of a leafy death which clog our veins in dark tannins - we need to break away from this cloud drugged afternoon drooping eyelids and dribbling nose. We didn't want this again! We are tired as tyres spin hopeless against the ungrateful. Something beyond our understanding deadens, clustered and draining away want or need; grasping, out at withered hands, and gasping, whispering dreadful breathes. Today is Sunday and resistance to an alcohol fueled pyre is all my body feels before the brief undermined sunset occurs.

I have been in a 'nothing' loop since I returned to England on the sixteenth of August 2013. It felt like my brain had collapsed into a grave and left my body wandering lonely without a source or outlet. A few attempts to edit what I had written felt empty and hollow and it seemed I couldn't leave my work 'as is' without grammar and sense input for a conventional audience. Who am I to want to portray myself as a standard plug, a indistinct human? Today I recoiled from my own banality and was sick to the pit of my being. It is still really just me and the rest in opposition juxtaposed flowing against the drowning heavy surge which is assimilation. It was necessary to draw breath and forget my trials over the summer just long enough for me to grimace again. So I will not let my thoughts evaporate into the autumn squalls completely. As long as I am aware some hope resides I will be brave and dwell in the realm of nine and five/Monday to Friday even while I feel threat...