"A Rudderless Child"
You may have noticed in the past, had you visited this sight, a stranger wander in, like a drunk into a bar - loud, rude, and often obliterating the conversation.
I am obligated to provide some warning, in the form of this explanation...just so you’re not put-off by Him. You will be, but be assured, you'll not be the first. You may be perplexed, puzzled, or repulsed, but you won't be the first. He may grow on you intellectually, to a degree, or feel like 'a growth' in your cranium when he is done - he has that effect with me:
I am obligated to provide some warning, in the form of this explanation...just so you’re not put-off by Him. You will be, but be assured, you'll not be the first. You may be perplexed, puzzled, or repulsed, but you won't be the first. He may grow on you intellectually, to a degree, or feel like 'a growth' in your cranium when he is done - he has that effect with me:
He will either storm through the doors with a blizzard at his back, or has been sitting, brooding in a dark corner in the back of the room, observing your labors, while carrying on his life’s incoherent, grunting, running dialogue, oblivious of the occupants, or the reality of the space they shared , be it physical, or mystical, or just plain neurosis.
Skunk Mullins is my lifelong mental camper, couch surfer, party crasher, mindmate and muse usurper, who refuses to go home, because he's found it, and its me. So, what am I to do? He is often frustrated, angry, and always mad, but I can’t turn him away because I’d wonder where he’d gone to vent, and to whom, and would they understand? He's been rejected most his life...so he might pick a fight when drunk, and the odds of both, are as predictably high as he will also be.
So if you should bump into the Skunk on a visit to this site, I want you to be aware of things, should you sense things aren’t quite right. It’s Skunk, the twisted philosopher, often in rant, I’d stop him if I could, but as I warned you, I just can’t.
Skunk Mullins is my lifelong mental camper, couch surfer, party crasher, mindmate and muse usurper, who refuses to go home, because he's found it, and its me. So, what am I to do? He is often frustrated, angry, and always mad, but I can’t turn him away because I’d wonder where he’d gone to vent, and to whom, and would they understand? He's been rejected most his life...so he might pick a fight when drunk, and the odds of both, are as predictably high as he will also be.
So if you should bump into the Skunk on a visit to this site, I want you to be aware of things, should you sense things aren’t quite right. It’s Skunk, the twisted philosopher, often in rant, I’d stop him if I could, but as I warned you, I just can’t.
SKUNK:
In a constant battle of give-and-take, it seems I'm
only aware when I'm asleep, and Dreaming when I’m awake.
It’s the things one passes by, that eventually catch up
with you. The job you should have taken, the girl you should have dated…especially
the ones that 'offered'. But they scared you shitless instead. That’s an offer you should have probably taken, but you ran like the ‘piss-ant’ you are.
'But she was getting fucking married. I shook his hand
firmly and looked him straight in the eye. How was I supposed to fuck his
fiancé /wife at the same time? I
should have. You never know. She was either a tramp, a savior…or neither. Just
another screw?...too bad you never knew.'
You think anyone regrets not fucking me? Hahaha… That
ship sailed. Look at me! See what happens? After awhile you lose your grip,
become adrift, like a rudderless child…motherless boat…murderous shit…fuckin'clueless dolt. Do I have a reason? No. A life is not something you should
drift through, but it’s what we do….some of us do, but don’t ask how many, or
who, because I haven’t a clue. Rudderless boats don’t dock or steer they just drift on
without a crew, just the one lonely captain, in charge of exactly who?
Permission to come aboard? Permission
refused.
That train left the station on time… you missed it by miles…to places
you’ll never see. Mixing metaphors, missing semaphores...sex with casual whores…things
I’ve never been trained to use. I can’t read Life for shit, which is why I’m still living with you. Thanks for having me.
V
