I Am Eating My Hand And It Tastes Like Wet Paint

Reading Harlan Ellison's book of collaborations.
In the forward to one of the shorts,
he remarked upon his youthful affinity & exuberance
to demonstrate a character's extreme state of mind
(car crash)
(loss of loved one)
(alien invasion)
by having them insert their fist into their mouth.
To stiffle the screams?
To inflict self-abuse?
To inject an uneasy bit of physical business?
He was chagrined by the melodramatic ploy,
which he em-"ployed" over & over again.

I feel the same way at times with this blog--
What am I demonstrating here?
Who reads this stuff anyway?
I can't exactly call it behind-the-scenes DVD commentary,
an "AERODYNAMICS" how to.
And it's not exactly a story idea-a-day.
And, oh yes, there's certainly a lot of whining
& why me?
And it's not like I'm going public w/ this...
Oh the stray distant relative & blast from the past
have infiltrated the cyber-anonymity
but I'm mostly venting in the corner.
Flexing a muscle for 20 mins. or so.
So why?

Do I have delusions of grandeur that this will all be
my posterity some day?
Yes.
Do I need to do this?
No. But I have no one to talk to so this feels like the
healthy outlet.
Do I revel in this?
No. Most of the time it feels like a chore. Two weeks in
again & I want to cease & desist.
But I'll aim for the token month.
Maybe I'll get scriptwriting software then.
Maybe I'll have the discipline for something more.
Do I fancy that all the world's crushes will read this...
& be emo-impressed?
Yes. But it won't happen. No one attractive & female &
smitten by me exists.

So I eat knuckle-flesh,
I drool on my sleeve.
I grind jaw & indent incisor & mash cartiledge.
I yell affixed.
There is nothing here anymore,
it is self-inflicting typeface
& creative remorse.
I will exit this coffeeshop in a couple hours time
& it will be the loneliest feeling in the world.
I'll suffer depth perception & autism,
& the summer sun in the royal blue sky,
will seem like a great weight.
I'll walk in circles & wilt in routine,
I'll disappoint myself...
all the while gnawing & cursing,
down to the bony canvas.

Cheers!