The Persistence Of Loss (Smile, Jake)

Smile, Jake

As I wander the path of my own mind, I look back at what I was, what I could've been, all that ever was, and all that could've been. The memories fading away like blowing ashes off of an ashtray. I look back at who I was and who I am and what I am now. The tears that could've been shed slowly start haunting me as I pick up this bottle of my favorite vodka. The blood spilt on my wrist still leaves a mark even after the 20 years of therapy. They prescribed me with anything they had. They wouldn't think I'd OD off of my sleeping pills. But, that's past. That's who I was before. I remember the times I could've died and the times I have died. These memories start to fade away as I see the needle being passed around. Finally it reaches to me. I wrap a string around my arm and see my veins pop out like a child finally escaping to the real world, full of curiosity. I slowly inject the needle into my vein and let it all go through me. Now that we're done with the needle, I find myself picking up a bottle again. Even after the rehab classes. I can't resist someone that helps me escape my own self. This effigy that I call me. I just drank a 5th of vodka. Would you like to see what I call home? Of course not. Who would? Returning to my house now, with my little bitchy wife. Telling me how I'm evil to my kids. Not my fault she won't ever go to bed with me. Not my fault I get too drunk because she doesn't give a shit another me. She's the reason why I rape my 9 year old daughter. She won't ever let me between her legs, so why not have something tighter than her. It feels better than her. Maybe because of all the men she let get into her. And she comes to me saying that my razors are bad for me. Yea sure I like to cut and bruise the nature of my own self. The blood is the only thing comforting now. But who doesn't like seeing blood? And having me locked up in my own mind now hurts me more badly than ever. Why did she need to call the cops on me. All I was trying to do is show her why I like blood so much. Maybe change her to be like me so I don't feel less dead and lonely than ever. Have her like it as much as me. I just wanted to be less lonely. To have someone like me. To be loved once more. Well now I'm locked up behind bars for her calling the cops. Now I feel more dead than anyone in a grave. I'm losing touch of pain. I can't feel emotions anymore. I'm numb in my head. I even cut myself as deep as I can and I felt no pain and no blood was spilled. Not even adrenalin. What's the point in caring on this life anymore if I can't feel what it's like to live. What's the point in lying if I'm gonna die. Why not make it come faster. I've already already felt my persistence of loss, so why not finish the job. I have the blade to my wrist right now. I'm in my cell and no cops seem to be around. Oh god yes, I'm finally feeling pain. Oh the blood, it makes me feel alive again. I need more blood. More pain. More emotions. Just another slit on my leg. Oh god I just lost the ability to walk but it feels so good. I need more. More. More. More slits in the wrist. It never felt this good to be alive again. Oh, but why am I loosing the pain. Why did the blood stop flowing. No I need more. Why can't I move my right arm. No I need more blood more pain more feelings all of it I need it right now. Oh god I'm dying slowly. But I feel alive again. I don't want to die now. No I need to stay alive. I need more. I can't lose myself now. I can't. Now all I feel is emotion. The memories are coming back to me. The scenarios playing through my head like a broken record. I'm remembering myself and who I was. I'm remembering the times I died and cried. I'm remembering. Remembering this persistence of loss. I'm never gonna die. I'll always be here in my eternal body. Death isn't real. Nor is life. Only a persistence of loss.