Exorcism of a decade

2010, fell into madness again, again, twice again walking Sunset Boulevard with one shoe on one foot, the other naked, veins of red wine, stumbled and tumbled towards

2011, fell into a search for heaven trying to remember to forget that I forgot to remember half of two-thousand and ten. Where was I again? under what mental bridge, out of what real hotel did I get kicked out of for smoking inside, fucking with the door open and pissing in the sink? flopped and dropped into Black Bear Ranch, communed with the Specter of the late 1960s and its admixture, over the decades it had been through, of sensibilities of delusional refuge and practical subterfuge, Occupied Wall Street and marched with barefoot Appalachian teenagers past millionaires in tailored suits,

2012, fell into a search for help, and found love for the first time in my life, Inverness, Loch Ness, the honeymoon was divine but I worship in pagan prayer to my God in sky heaven on Mount Olympus, Zeus, the chance to meet he, Huw, middle name is a question,

2013, what a dream!

2014, starting to come apart at the seams, Seroquel had my flesh squeezing the inside of my trousers, started to feel isolated in Misty Albion, still hadn’t dealt with the last decade, couldn’t complain, couldn’t refrain, couldn’t remain,

2015, fell into a scene, On The Road from Los Angeles to New York after high speed chase from marriage proposal with horrid fast food destiny in some Oregon river valley, but I am sorry poor Eric that life is not for me,

2016, this year – this year was miserable and mean, but taught me the value of dealing with teens, especially myself,

2017, turned thirty – finally and barely an adult, Warsaw, Poland, life is so much greener on the other side,

2018, until it is not, what’s that? a Blackface drag queen? and believe me, I found within weeks this preening celebrity, white as cream, donning Blackface, thank heavens she’s been blacklisted, but I didn’t ask her to use Black skin as an accessory, learnt the Polish can be narrow-minded, thick and full of nationalist steam, learned to live foreign, removed, alienated to the extreme,

2019, you’ve done a number on me, I prostrate my bones on pagan prayer stones and praise Zeus that I am still here, and I hope to ask for assistance, in two-thousand and nineteen, to clear the brush and bristles and barren voids of empty minded snow drifts landing on wildfires. No, I move forward without you 2019. Zeus, Alex and I are out – scream for the two-thousand teens, no one else will –

exorcism of a decade

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