London: entering the darkside (2007)

The hour rapidly grew sinister. I’m a short distance from the Darkside, and suddenly I’m wholly involved. I’m becoming an envelope sealed in aggression. There’re things which crawl out of the bricks and concrete and sewers and they start to stick to me and inject. My behaviour turns vile. Each piece is heavy and knows it’ll get the better of me until everything irritates and nothing can rid me of this torture. I find myself grinding teeth and giving citizens the evil-eye; violating doors and slamming down the hatches. My words come brief and violent, fuck fucking mother-fucker shit prick cunt twat…are the words that take over. And everything I touch I loathe…not to mention that which I see and hear and taste. It is all Hell. Every last piece of reality is scum and wasted. All good-will is pathetic and false.

Don’t smile at me you prick. I don’t fucking owe you.

Children and mothers are the Anti-Christ, babies are maggots in their pushchairs, the grandparents are too old, too senile, too space-consuming, all public devils are Satan, all servants are vampires, technology and machinary is a rotten persecution, lovers are sick, fasion is empty and filled with sin.

Will I ever resurrect? This is it, always? Hatred.

It is a tiring life when all you want is to destruct. You want to take an axe to it all. Stick a knife in that kid’s face, take a saw to that bitch’s tits, burn the pictures that plague the streets, put screw-drivers into the throats of men. Rip out spines, intestines, guts…genitals – I want them clean off. Tear out the eyes. Burn society down to the fucking ground. Kill every single last one of them. Over and over and over.

But you cannot do that. You want to destroy someone…but you know that it makes no sense. The idea is useless.

So you turn on yourself and think about destroying something. Anything. A couple of hot blades and an ounce of your flesh…

But how much sense does that make?

You’re fucking crazy, you know that?

So let’s get fucked up on drugs instead. Give me a bottle of gin, some ketamine, some crack. Fuck me up. Good and proper.

Forget the Mandy or the coke…I want to lie in my own puke and feel sorry for myself. I want to wake up from a total fucking mess and forgive myself in the afternoon. I want to forget this shit and these cruel fucks and kill the empty product they created. Stop the constant analysis.

Get me the gin, the ket, the crack.

That’s the resurrection I’ll wake up from.

Get me out.


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