One Green Bottle

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Chapter 30

Why do people hurt each other? Why do marriages end? What makes a relationship what does not it does? Look I am the king of the castle and you are a dirty rascal in case you did not know. What is control in a relationship? Who is in control? When a king wants to control all these factors what will he make of us the commoners as we grapple with ourselves and our consciences and our little shrinking selves? I wish to know what makes it work and what doesn’t make it work? Look the dirty king has about ten girls on the go with their children all wanting the things he has. Does that make him a man?

He says I am workshy they say as they swindle the banks and they set the recession rolling that there is nothing for us in this country. They say that the workshy should all die. He says and they say what do they mean? That the social services said because you have no arms then it is your fault for being damaged for having mental illness that too is under your control. If you were living in a crowded room with 4 other people that was your own fault for being born into such a family. Top floors and the king he wants something from me and I won’t give so he is doing all this. He loves prosecuting me he loves the chase he does not want the real me he wants the run for his money. He has set his mind on someone then that someone has to give no matter the struggle if the girl does not want then it is too bad. Where in heavens did I pick him? Why did I pick him where in the world does the disabled have to do with it? Workshy I am not workshy the king has been chasing me getting me out of jobs do I starve or turn to prostitution? What does a girl have to do? Starve or turn to crime? Isn’t everyone entitled to their opinion? Does it have to be me or the world? Why the world? I will not give him that satisfaction.

We are the crooks he says and the bankers who thought up this crisis are the sweet smelling asses. I thought of turning into someone else but there is only ME! I thought of turning away from the world but there is no world to turn away from. I thought the world had turned but it has stayed the same. I thought the meat and drink I was having was nectar but it turned out to be cold and sterile. Where in the world shall I go? What shall I do what is there for me? Who is in my thoughts there is someone else to see to it. There is mum with the mouth nagging at me to stop writing there is the time to do and a time to reason and a time to die. There is a time to fight and time to lay down arms there is no time for me.

I wrote myself into the picture here I am still unborn here I am wishing I was unborn. Here I am still there for the entire world to see. Here I am a litter of no account making myself count. Here I am alone, destitute and unclean. Here I am making nothing of this world here I am making myself alone into a silk purse. Here I am nothing with nothing to live for. Here I am with everything in my way. When life is extinct when there is no more civilisation when the world begot nothing but monsters then there won’t be anyone to see that creation was good. Beauty will lay down its arms and time would not have meant anything.

Mum wants to see what I have done. Mum wants to be the centre of attention it is as if my world and hers have constantly to collide, as if we are puppets that have to tell each other off for someone’s benefit. Here I am nothing here I am everything to be as yet. I do have nothing but I don’t do anything if the entire world is against us having the crust in our hands then what reason is civilisation? Then it would have been for nothing? Everything would have been for nothing when bankers are not even told off when everything is nonsense where there is no charity of feeling when the victim is to blame.

I used to live in a tenement and now look at me? I have a room of my own it must be good to have a room of one’s own to be imprisoned by that room to have nothing but that room. Here I am it is over here I am it is the beginning I’ll take up begging so that some snotty duke and prince can lay himself happily.

It is classy this is not classy it is obvious it is not obvious it is true it is untrue it is something I made up? Do you take me for an imaginative writer? No imagining could have been so cruel. Is it true is it make believe I’m I the world’s best or the unreason in my blood has destroyed me? The truth speak the truth you pauper. Here I am planning my prison here I am going into the oval shaped room. Here I am as square as can be. Here I am not horrible but contentedly planning to murder the king. Here I am and I will if he does not leave me alone.

Murder the king I must regicide murder the king murder him totally murder the Monaco bastard murder him entire. Murder him so that he won’t harm my country. Murder him so that he won’t find his way into my bed. Murders the king murders him so that he won’t come here. Murder the king yes murders him before he murders me. Godlessness this is devilry this is mischief everyone happy I’ll be locked up inside the jail forever eating bacon. What do they eat in prison? Porridge we are left with that jailed placed inside cast off adrift done for. Here I am eating porridge it is amazing what a king does to someone like me by the way seduced and discarded and now waiting for the elopement. Is it allotment? No it is definitely elopement. Murder the king and pay penance it is such a good idea to murder him to beget his blood on my conscience because I did not have enough blood to contend with. Murder the king it is easy as peas, he is leaving me to chance he does not realise that I can murder him most easily. It is as easy as killing a fly. I see no fly it is there everywhere it is here in my head buzzing frolicking after the winter. It is as easy as killing.

Murder the bastard.

It is against the law to murder and what will happen to my family? They will be remembered as someone who’s auntie or sister did murder. Grand scale it is better to do everything on a grand scale. I not in some grandeur I opulence what use is opulence when I will not eat? Is it my destiny to find cowards as lovers? Is it my destiny to twist the knife in wherever I go? Is it me that is up the garden path? What am I to do me live I love but I am fucked if I know why they don’t leave as soon as I open my mouth. They see faults the enchantment is that they can’t get away. Is it my fault? What is it with me? They follow me round like sick panthers. I am not right for this it is not right this is wrong. I am followed by the devil maybe that is what male writers meant about females being witches but women suffer too. They do honest woman are just as capable of suffering of remorse of good deeds as well as bad deeds. I’ve sinned I’ve contaminated the wedding sheets I’ve made a bed of throes and I am forsaken forbidden fruit why do men want the forbidden? There is a bowl here taste it as if nectar. There is a bowl of fruit you can eat it entire but it is always the one in the bush they want. Bird in hand is worth ten in bush but no men want the ten in the bush.

I fools I bone idle people I am the one writing this some idiot will get all the credit. This is my lot in life to play fair when the world has lost the rule book. Look take a credit check this is my credit down the years I suffer I pine I opinion. I have opinions. I check the time as same as everyone else, I look closely at all the world as if star gazing but the level of me is down the urinary tract I am the bastard the bitch the beech tree I am going to be flogged humiliated I am to be discarded like a tampon that is after I am used.

Is it any wonder that I plan to murder before he does? Victim I am victim I am the child victim who has never grown up. Take a child give it salt and learning and you have a lunatic in the asylum. This is I in pain unwanted but the women in history make my day. They congregate in my thoughts the women in history who put up with men just like I have to. Look I have had a bitter sweet experience and it is near the end now I have my memories it is going to be washed up because there is nothing but things in the way. I am not bothering to look back in anger it is one of those things that have to end. Anyhow who is to care? No one cares about an orphaned child. No one cares about the child who has never known love or understanding or satisfaction from the cradle something on its back telling the world to kick it. The world is so obliging it does. Kicks it head off makes the liver dry and collapses the life in one so that there is nothing but shame for the world except the world is unashamed. The world knows no shame at all. It is a beastly world with its pants undone.

Take the life an artist leads. Take it damn it, there is nothing to fear from the artist is there? We are deadly my dears dead to all feelings deeds and satisfactions. This life is one of satisfactions of taking time over the sex but hurrying all the rest. Take this satisfied body it is rebelling because there is nothing to hold onto but that this beastly world has me in its talons with its beastly sex and I have nowhere to go but to my damnation.

Take this child and take that do they know what they do to this world? They are the fathers and mothers of tomorrow and if no one takes the time to teach them right from wrong how are they going to teach the future generations? We are the future and some are the present and some are the past. Like it or not we all die in the end. Some are crazily planning their honeymoon in mars. Some are endlessly digesting the milk and the harvest but some have had no harvest. That is unfair look at the poor young druggy is he the one to let onto the planet that he is the future of this senseless generation?

I sense there is nothing to do but to do the right thing. That without dignity and love there cannot be anything. That without justice and justified change there cannot be change. That change has to happen but not for the sake of change that there must be thought in action that there is nothing to do but to seek something that is justice for me and for the world. If this man that I seek justice from is bad then cannot he be doing harm to others? If he is such a powerful man then is he to be left to do as he pleases? His wish is to create hell for me my wish is to create a space to be without him. I am left not alone but permanently with his personas pursuing me relentlessly as if the hell I have unleashed is not only his but the world. What might have been a youthful mistake has turned into a passion for him. To seek vengeance to seek to murder me without being caught, I the victim protest. It is too much to expect that from pillar to post I will be pursued and not notice it even if I had been hypnotised eventually murder does come out.

So will this farce come to an end? Will he leave me alone will this be the end of it all in an amicable manner without anything but good will to all? I to say this but his rage is growing it is not subduing it is growing into a mixed batch of eggs not standard it is growing into a spite most merciless. I am being chased into nothingness I am being chased into being someone else. I am being chased into being something I don’t want to be. I am being chased into someone unimportant bathos into the dropouts of society in line without wit and malicious at that and contemptible. I am being nothing.

I will not stand for this it is imposture it is a poseur it is the imposters that get me. The many faces of contempt I have seen it he poses as he walks into his office he poses as he write a poem he poses as he impersonates all the people I have tried to help. He poses into making me into nothing. I will have nothing that is what he wants not even memories he will see to it that I will leave no trace behind he will see to it that there is no one at my death but him in his various roles he will see to it that when I am alone there is nothing but the images he makes. He will see to it that there is no one for me anyone brave enough or crafty enough to seek me out and keep me.

Murder is not his aim for it is so traceable it is such a crime that it has to be brought to justice but to eliminate someone from existence that is less of a crime. He will see to it that there is nothing left of me before he tells me to jump over the cliff and end it all for him as well as for me.

So what have you done today been to any meetings been to many talks have you memories? Does anyone love you? Does anyone miss you can there be lots of fucks about that you have that grin on your face? Do you believe in God? Pay the devil the money? Then bank your soul. The human race what do you believe in when that is at home? Do you believe in yourself? Do you have self knowledge can someone drive anyone mad? Can one be running forever and ever and not be caught? Can I be brought to realise that there might be nothing for me?

I am running still I have been running for 32 years can I be brought to stillness to catch my breath? Can I be brought to realise that there is nothing in this world that is worth fighting for except humanity? That there are more villains in this world that all the bosses and the mafia and the junk they lay on this world is the powerlessness that they had experienced when young? That Freud and Jung are right about them that they should be talked too because poor things no one listens to them.

Can a thief be brought to justice when what he steals he does not need? This attempted life of mine can someone not make me cry? These hot tears these are my thoughts on another matter what if there is no hell? What if I imagined the whole thing? Then the window shuts in my face I am indeed mad and must take my medication. There is no medication that I can take that makes him go away. There is nothing for me in this world there is no one that I care about and no one cares for me. There is nothing in this world that I want to see anymore there is only this deep anger and depression because there is nothing to do but to do and be erased.

“Look I wrote a book!”

“Damn clever old thing.”

“LOOK I a woman have written a book.”

“Try saying the word crisps?”

“You know I can’t.” I say it like it is an odd word I can’t roll the words into a sensible one. Everyone laughs out loud and she says she has written a book? I think it is odd too. I cannot say the damn word. The worst of, it do not remember the reason I know it has something to do with the orphanage but do not know the reason behind it.

“Highly sporting stuff old bean burn the book.”

“Look it has taken years out of my life it is years since I have thought on it and it is here in my face in my hands it is the spitting image of me and not me. It is about life and extinction and change and not wanting change.”

“Highly original old beam.”

“Look it is old it is new it is something anyone should read and be proud of. Come let me read it to you so that you can understand and be amused by.”

“Amusing too? And you wrote it a woman? I must erase it you know must not tell my friends that you can write better than me it might let the side down!”

You know what is cruel so cruel is that he has all the power to do and undo and I have no power except my will to survive.

“What has happened to me? Why is this happening to me to my life to me and my work to my art to me this can’t be happening to me. This life this being the victim this is not happening to me it has got to stop. I will stop it except I am afraid that I might kill the wrong person.”

Take this trashy life and screw it away does he want that to screw my life away? It does not make sense you see nothing makes sense I am as if followed by demons all disguised as if from a nightmare and there are no rest breaks and no coffee mornings and nothing but to seem to be busy doing nothing. This has left me to dream no longer life is one endless nightmare with him so sought after and after me as if I am the prey he is hunting. I feel like a frightened rabbit must feel like in her hole without anywhere to go.

Good life without the life? Why this why me? Why this is nothing but to break from the world into a bottomless pit of spite and envy those people they make me sick. Get them off me it is a nightmare it has to be a nightmare otherwise there can’t be goodness there can’t be anything but envy and spite.

I fear to do something I fear to go out I fear to go on holidays I fear to be alone I fear to be. I am restless as if all my marbles are here and not here. I am losing my mind again I know the signs it is him with his smiling face with his demoniac eyes as he lustfully gloats at this and that as if he is seeing too much and the only things he sees are hatred. He does not love anyone or anything but self he has never loved anyone yet he thinks he is the centre of attention of the universe as he wanders from bed to bed he can’t love he can only have.

That is all he wanted from us all money and a means to an end that is what he wants and beware what you want for one gets it. So mother killed him. Users get done for and she is now in that state of mind very highly thought of as the woman who got away.

He wants to free the world’s resources so that he can capitalise on them he wants to chop the rainforests so that the next generations won’t have what he has. He wants to be a man when he can’t feel any affection for anybody, and isn’t being human to feel affection to feel something for a living person? He can’t feel that is his trouble he can cause pain but he himself can’t feel.

Sex on the DHHS sex on the brain I have nothing left I can’t get out of the house and I can’t stay. I have nowhere to go. I can’t get out of the house and I can’t stay.

To cap it all mum has gone mad and is putting me through salt. To cap it all I am insanely jealous of Tom. To cap it all there is nothing but mischief in this world and I am not going to stand for this nor to Tom see if he can work out what he is supposed to be doing. He said I should buy the sofas now how can I buy the sofas when there is no house? To be sensible might be a better option first we must see to it that we mate then we must see that there is enough to live on and then we must see to it we buy a house then we must buy the bed and the sofas. Well he has been much married I wonder who bought everything than?

I must see to it that there are no more mistakes. That we can handle everything in one moment but when it is more we destroy it like gossamer. What gets me is that there is everything within my reach and all I have to do is to reach out and grab. But can I? Can I reach and grab like everybody? Can there be life for me? Can I be someone anyone? Can I be canned can there be love for me?

I victim I am not to blame for being the victim. I had no chance I had no choice but to be a victim. I from a poor family in poverty lived and all I wanted was someone rich to get me out of poverty. How was I to know that the rich have more problems than the poor?

That they can become bad that their wives want things from me as well as from him. That the many women he had was because his wife was only folly. The white folly built with sticks and stones break no bones and she not human at all. Like a machine like a machinations of a machine churning daily her bread and making poisons all round.

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