Selected journal entries from my crazy life


14. 14

February 26, 2017 Santa Rosa CA

I'm beginning to feel it again. I have nothing left inside. I'm dead. Women have came and went; some taking a part of me; others giving a peace of them selves. I lay naked in bed at night and wonder if they think of me or if I'm the only one thinking. Do they remember laying naked with me shrouded porcelain moon light? Is life meant to be spent alone with small snap shots of time spent with another? Do we have the capacity to love anymore? Must we always be chasing the next person the next cock or pussy the next fuck; adding another notch in our belt; stuffing the void we feel with someone else's feelings or body part.

I found myself in a brothel in the city yesterday fucking a prostitute. It was a sort of dark cloudy wind swept day and the room was dark sept for the grey light coming through the window. She was laying on her back on the massage table and I was standing up fucking her trying to escape my every emotion with each thrust and for a second I forgot the world and all the poverty and lies and deceit; for a moment I forgot about my love. It was as if I was fucking all the pain away that I had felt through life thus far. And then I came and I sort of just laid back on the table next to the prostitute and we were silent and breathed heavily. We both sat in silence in the grey light. We were both dead.

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