The craft knife drew over his arm, the burning was the first feeling as always then the pain, he had done this so often, then the nirvana of blood flowed this was cheaper than crack. His arms was covered in scares, he cut again the pain took over, he had feeling from the numbness, an hour on it got to much, he washed the blood away and bandaged up his arms.
Dave woke at three, fingers down his into mouth he was sick, half an hour on he felt better and back to bed, he lived in a single bedsit flat, he was unsure if those who he lived could make out the noise of his self induced vomiting, he had been making himself sick, around the same time as he had been cutting himself up, each time he bumped into the other people of the house, the paranoia kicked into play.
He could neither tell his fair weather friends about what he was doing., to the wider world, he was just another Plague Dog of Humanity, involved in the play for today, of lies and deceit, he liked to think he was a creative person at fantasy and bullshit, but truth be told he was no better than others, of the wider world, truth be told he felt like he was just tolerated.
Dave was a true Nihilist, there was no feeling for himself or others, all right this was not the whole truth, this opiate of life, he sometimes very much loved, but as with any opiate this rather close relationship had more lows than highs, for both of them, it was not socialism in action, the village looked at there friendship with envy and sometimes he knew the utter contempt, towards himself, there was no need for the contempt he had enough of his own.
The narrow intolerant closed minds, could only see the exploitation, the opiate of there relationship was not a simple patriarchal marriage, to some they was Sheffield,s first queer couple, it was an opiate both being addicted to the conflict, to the love, highs and lows of there long term partnership, this was a simple truth of this addiction, as with any opiate the truth escaped people of how addictive they can be, it was an equilibrium of release from themselves.
Both had the urge to destroy the system which destroyed them each day of there youth. They understood they cannot go on living as they are, their minds are on fire. Soon enough they run up against the fact that they must come up with a coherent set of tactics that will have a practical effect on the world around them, this was the truth of this opiate of relationship, it was not an easy addiction to give up.
Any true nihilist does not know of the historical possibility for the transformation of the world, his or her subjective rage will coralise into a role: the suicide, the solitary murderer, the street hoodlum vandal, the neo-dadaist, the professional mental patient… all seeking compensation for a life of dead time, here the truth hit Dave he was in need to kick the opiate of his relationship.
The naked light bulb told him a truth about the ongoing exploitation, that was the opiate of his relationship, he needed to be free, not live in continued guilt as he was doing, sometimes the village gossip was right, there was a need to destroy, however it was his own self conclusion, being to much of a cowed to undertake a quick suicide, he deluded himself the drunken fools he named as friends was the right path to self annihilation, all it did do was provide an opportunity of denial for The Middle Class.
It was 3am when he opened the door to his prison cell, another night of slow self annihilation, the hangover took over the Gray wet Saturday, along with the guilt of his actions, in this state truth hit home, there was no real friendship with those he had sat in the pub with, not only did they suffer from the same contempt and self annihilation, they was just as deluded as him, the ego of the individual is a strange thing.
The lies and bullshit kicked in, not only to him self but those he did see, he was not going to admit to any truth of how he loved death, but was in as much fear of it than love. The so called friends he had spent the night looking for obscurity with, was just another opiate.
Much of his life was a lie, a delusion of the self looking at reflection of him self, in the toilet of the café as he made him self sick told him this, his fear of falling and being told it was due to him being a fat basted then being beaten for being a fat basted was with him much of the day of The Haunted House on a Hill overlooking Penistone and Holmfirth, was there truth? in the regret expressed to him over the actions one of his follow urban explores?.
He washed his hand and waited a moment for the pain from his face to go, humour was a good mask, it deflected from his feelings and any conversation about his binge drinking, he hated living a lie towards himself, he wanted to be liked loved understood, at 430 on the Friday before another night of heavy drinking, an argument had ensued, he was not going to listen, neither was his friend going to be honest he was in fear of the opposition he might get.
Some years back it was an axe, he understood it had to come to an end, his attention seeking for all the wrong reasons, other than the truth could be seen by the wider world, if only his friend had a gun, would he shoot Dave? The utopian conversation about shoplifting, was just that, along with the comment people like you need shooting.
We had no need to for the Middle Class to demonise us, here we was doing it for our self s, a lot of truth had hit home with Dave, he understood he was just tolerated out of pity and fear, you could see this when speaking with people, The Middle Class are to polite to speak any truth, he told them was the self consumer of his woes, he was in the living ocean of his waking dreams, when asleep they was nightmares.
Deliverance was a long path, Dave was in no position to offer it others, neither was they going to offer him any form of salvation from his himself, to them he was not an Anarchist, but a Nihilist, it was a term of abuse
The long continued patronising contempt, he had no need for there superior pretence, of being Anarchist at one with his suffering, of course he could continue to live in denial of himself, it would be unrefined to invite himself to where he was not welcome, it would only serve the ignorance of The Middle Class, and those who thought it to be a funny joke.
Sometimes when you walk out of a door, there is no need to go back for another beating, when walking was the better option, he now needed to put an end to the 20 mouths of self denial and take the opportunity he had been given, it was time to be an Anarchist.