Sometimes I have these sudden, quick, flashing impulses to put out cigarettes on my arm or throw lit matches into car gas tanks. And then I laugh at the recklessness of it all, of these self destructive fantasies.
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Sometimes I want to burn down churches, murder saints, yell out rehearsed obscenities to the top of my lungs. Blasphemous speeches and blatant disobedience, total disregard for the sacred.
Cause a 10 car pile up on the freeway, bodies broken and bleeding on blacktop. I see myself smiling, slumped over the wheel, eyes open in a dead, vacant stare.
Sometimes as I sit and smoke and sip on coffee, I want to grab the waitress by the arm, ask her to sit down and show me her soul.
I want to lay hands on the sick, give sight to the blind, I want to exorcise the demons of the lost. I want to break through the brass of heaven. I want to talk to God.
Erect monuments, carve statues, build memorials for the dead. Write poetry, light candles, have communion, break bread. And then I laugh at the recklessness of it all.
Sometimes I imagine your lips on my neck, my name on your mind.............
I like to take deep drags, filling my chest with smoke, looking out the streaked, wide windows of the 24 hour diner, shaking my head at the world, chuckling to myself, never quite understanding the recklessness of this all. God's self destructive fantasy.