How Can You Lose Your Fire When Everything Is Burning?

My Dear Huck;

I have tried three, now four times to write you since I saw your comment. That’s part of the problem. Julia and I have a four and a half year old little boy and a five month old Rottweiler running around, our jobs keep us on crazy schedules and some damn thing or another is coming up. Yesterday Julia needed to get a tooth extracted.

But that’s just short term bs. I am doing a lot of writing and creative work right now but I haven’t been blogging especially about politics because for the love of Christ, just look at it. 

I’ve been talking to you for a long time, my invisible friend, and you know me to be a sane and rational fellow, but I am empathetic, intuitive, and in touch enough with myself to understand other people in a way that almost seems eerie to me sometimes, and when I see Donald Trump these days, I…

Are you familiar with The Dead Zone by Stephen King? It feels a bit like that but worse.

******************TWO DAYS PASS*******************************

And just now today a British MP was shot dead by a man who shouted ‘Britain First!‘

Madness and horror, Huck. That’s what I see when I close my eyes and hear his voice.
Do you want an honest bit of crazy poetry that will unsettle and shake you? Read on,
I’ll tell you what jams my minds eye and floods my subconscious with static broken
recitations of the gibbering spittle flecked rants of the Alzheimer’s ward at Christmas,
the sound of something angrily pounding from the inside of an infants coffin
and  tentacles caressing snake bodies, cephalopods embracing reptiles,
broken nature recombining the recombinant into revenge upon the primate
and the guns oh the fucking guns the precious guns the giant steel cocks of death
worshipped by the cowards and closet cases not brave enough to suck a real cock
the equalizer that lets a lone mongrel kill a lion or every other fucking dog it sees
Mammon is shouting to the possessed, calling the demons to awaken among us
Mammon is shouting to the possessed, calling the demons to awaken among us
and I know that’s so crazy but that’s what it is: a nihilist narcissist empowered ego
calling the maniacs to serve it by any means necessary, that now is the time for all
madmen to come to destroy their country, and the grasshoppers are swarming
and metamorphosing into monstrous locusts ravenous for civilizations and
always the oceans are rising and the summers are getting hotter and this one
is going to set records, and I hear him laughing and something perfected
in the Cretaceous regards me with the mercy of a spider and I know that
Mammon is shouting to the possessed, calling the demons to burn it all down
Mammon is calling to the possessed, shouting for demons to burn it all down
and he sounds like maggots and flies buzzing in my ears everything is backwards
and nobody knows how it happened when it was obvious all along that it’s
what they had been asking for all along and there is the sound of bodies locked in
riga mortis falling to the ground it was over a long time ago except for the screaming
which is only getting louder as the weaklings join the mongrel wearing a lion skin
Mammon is calling the demons to wake you up and join his party (a monster’s Baal)
Mammon’s demons want to wake you make you join his party (the monster’s Baal)

So yeah, when I try to write about politics I keep getting stuff like that.

Cheers,

Winston