I like to travel, read, write, dance and pretend. At the moment I am suffering an insufferable phase of self-aggrandizement, premature maturity and lack of wit.
If you think you can help me out of this funk, write me at idaman.z@gmail.com
There are times when I panic and the darkness inside threatens to eat me whole and I want to cry out against the nothing and I think what the fuck is my problem there are people with despairs more desperate than mine but still I panic and I fantasize about a bullet to the brain, a smoking barrel against the throat and I panic and I panic and I panic.
And then I try to calm down, and the only thing, the only thing that works these nights are thoughts of fucking, my legs around anonymous bodies, my lips against featureless faces, thoughts of bucking bucking bucking to reach that endgame which is orgasm. It is this, this basest of things, the bones of desire that calms me, that exorcises the panic within.
To think, a decade or so ago, I would recite the Al-Fatihah to chase the ghosts away.
It must be time for me to seek some sort of faith that isn’t governed by my ego.
