I want to rot.

I’m confused in a fundamental way. One you can’t avoid by sleeping. I want something so badly, and I’m caught between being vulgar and poetic. I’m a mess. And I mean nothing by that. I’m okay. I really am okay. There are people much worse off and I don’t claim to be suffering anything unique — on the contrary. I am so incredibly mundane and I don’t think I’m better than anyone. Shit or art is a matter of perspective, and I prefer to assume the worst with the hope of being pleasantly surprised. 

There’s this peculiar state of mind I always find myself halfway in. I know I’m there because I want to do something reckless. I want to immerse myself in the whirlwind of physical pleasures and mindless, meaningless romanticization. And I want someone to see the shit I make and call it art. 

I’m getting dumber. All the time. My blood is polluted with heavy hormones and I feel myself becoming less self-aware. Thinking less and doing more. The less I think, the better I feel. I want to be a fool. I don’t care. I want to indulge. I feel like ripping at the seams and just laying in a rotten heap on the floor. I want to rot. To pollute my lungs and spill sludge from my lips. I don’t want to be anything, let alone realistic.


Talk to me. Validate me.

8 thoughts on “I want to rot.”

  1. Rotting does feel undoubtedly nice. I want to rot tooo. Hell I am rotting, just rotting away. I can feel it and its hunting me. I feel sick knowing I’m rotting and yet at the same time the decay that at first smelled putrid now smells nice and seems to be a gas slowly taking away the care I have for my own thoughts and feelings until someday I will have none left at all.

  2. I wouldn’t give into the void. Rotting will lead to end of giving a whoot deep down. I’ve been there, the puddle on the floor. Fully awake now and gitty. Never going back to the dumb numb.

  3. Fabulous post…uncertain if I totally get it but I sure understand wanting to just give in th the physical with utter disregard for consequences…been there done that. Carrot cake, wine…crazy sex. Tequila shots…bring it on baby, make me not think. Problem is…we always end up thinking. And sweetheart you are one smart cookie its obvious in your writing.
    Longing for something or someone we can’t have…part of the human condition. Actually so is rotting, after all we start to rot two seconds out of our mama’s womb right? So in the end it’s our life and we choose what to do with it and how we handle our pain. Good luck my friend. Keep posting. Your writing is the bomb. Go eat a piece of carrot cake and create your art (honey it is art…art= creation). Hugs.

  4. I wish I could reply to comments on here.
    @Jordan Hayes
    Yeah, yeah, I’m doing okay in that regard. Take everything I say with a grain of salt. I try to keep my firey adolescent rebellion confined to weekends.

    I dig the angst.

    Sure thing my man!

    It’s not necessarily bad. And I’m not really all about that religious stuff, but I guess I appreciate the sentiment. Don’t worry to hard about it.

    Wow you’re a babe. I like the way you express yourself with the written English language! I also particularly like the part where you compliment me. And yeah, I think you do get it.

  5. Your writing only validates the fact that you are not boring, nor mundane. How absolutely beautiful are your words? I believe you could tell a story about doing the dishes and make it exotic. Not many people possess that talent. You own it.

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