I sit in the bough of this tree under a crystal moon whispering imperceptible imprecations against the cold night, waiting the dawn yet fearing its cruel glow, my sanity vanishing by the second. I am totally alone and revile persons whom I do not yet know, have not yet met and do not want to meet. I was an eminent lawyer but left my practice and now live in this tree, foraging for nuts by night and slashing my wrists by day. I do not use love, I only exploit the orgasm. Cumming is one of our most precious gifts endowed in us. Female’s have more complex orgasms but they are harder to reach and I with my flaccid, locomotive junk can only muster the feeble dribbling of an elephant’s trunk.
In this tree trunk I watch the cosmic shards of white stars glance across the sky. Struggling to penetrate meaning in all of this all I can disclose is my suffering and my intense dolour. There is no cure for loneliness only hard drugs and heavy drinking, which, although I have tried in fact only deepens the futility of life and lacerates even deeper into the hearts nest, where a cold agony burgeons and festers, ultimately imbuing one with a sense of devastating loss, devastating emptiness, and a sickening, permanent nausea, which if bottled in fragrance would smell like dead maggots writhing among raw egg.
I watch people with money indulge their ephemeral happiness, their bulging egos. I only with red eyes doused with fresh gold poison only have the stars and the moon and these fields and that old stone wall and the road and the hedgerows and the violent hollow mornings and nothing but that but perhaps that is enough in this ancient struggle of man against beast and man among nature and the crushing inferiority of our own impotence cast against the vast omnipotence of nature and of Gods before man.
The compulsion to deepen sense is true and pure and is all I have in my arsenal against the nebulous horror of seas and oceans and the vast, powerful hospice of nature. All recedes from vitality to naked obsolescence, and from youthfulness to insipid, superfluous wisdom. Penetrate the cunt while you’re young and virile. Come, orgasm, yelp, scream, cry, weep, chuckle, bellow, writhe, swim and sprint in the name of honouring your youthful vessel. Our muscles will atrophy and we will either be burnt to cinder or decompose among the worms and the earth or drown at sea or be electrocuted accidentally performing some innocuous chore or bleed to death or suffer some ambiguous disease or simple combustion which would be preferable, which is how I feel now in this sea, in these chemical seas of trauma and loss and aloneness.
I remember pulling your close to my warm infa-red body and felt our warm sexes mingle and coalesce but after nothing, after the thrill, the chasm widened and the isolation melted across my spirit like a cold sheet across my skin. It does not dissipate, it does not go away. You can obfuscate it with drugs or spirituality or what have you but nothing is more devastating that pain. Pain and suffering are the most common of all human experiences. Happiness is, it could be argued, an unattainable economic construct exclusively linked and predicated by the feeling that you must work toilsome hours to achieve it and wisdom predicated on some inherited function of bogus hermeneutics written by ancient civilizations. Eight hours work, play, eight hours fucking. We are perpetually intimated by a feral mysticism. Why? They were just like us. They hurt, they loved, the lost, they died. Art is our greatest triumph. Accepting the cold nothingness of all of this and orgasming into a fresh blue dawn. That is all we have. This moment, these fingers, that crow, that birdsong, this bread. When we have all embraced this onerous immediacy the more expedient human development and the deeper human consciousness will become. Deconstruct the oppressive boundaries of and industrialized democracy. I am not agitating for some atavistic principles but simply a more wholesome, tactile relationship with nature and our humanity.
What I’m telling you is that the very nature, the very essence of our purpose is imperceptible, unconscious and mystical. So go and find people that thrill and exhilarate you and tell them they do, and maybe then you’ll smile.