Confessionals - no dumping, N.Y. state

Ah, the sweet and putrid truth. The flump of failure. The utter fascination of wanting something, finding it exactly as imagined and losing it as foreseen. Schmuck. The way there is a horned devil whispering it into being. The way of want. The way out. The honesty of pain, the foolishness of honesty. The stupidity of courage. The misguidance of valor. The end, the bitter end and the match that ignites it. The beginning and end, the beginning and end. The day. The first day. The last one. The last day. The fight. The last violent act. The last act. The final act. The loser. The last word. The final word. The finalist. The next day. The out. The out again. The city and all her distorted lovers. To each a city. The city of each. The hardened, embarrassing putrid truth. The real. The hold outs. The dreamers. The real. Beginning and end, beginning and end. The city. The long road to it. Hope.

> “You’re worse than that nigger whose fucking your wife.” Jesus. This coming from the woman I spent a year of my life with. The woman who I fought for and stood in court with. The woman who I entrusted with special knowledge.
I reply > “I assume you got my emails. I assume you got my message. I assume you don’t care.”
> “What do you want me to say?”
> “Anything. Something. It’s unbearable to ignore it.” “It’s fucking unbearable.”
> “You’re a bad person Daniel. Look what you did to your wife. You’ll get yours. You’ll see…” “Karma, it’s called karma.” I wanted to remind her that karma can only be portioned out by the cosmos. That all these actions are a result of unenlightened behavior and all this suffering is likely from lifetimes ago. Or at least that is what the Bodhisattvas would advise. The best thing to do would be to leave it be. I didn’t and this is the result.
> “Be kind.” “Jesus.” “I gotta know, I deserve to know.”
> “Yes, abortion asshole!” I still couldn’t know. I looked up at the rings dangling from the clip, all the evidence of birth control. The thought of it wrecked me. I wouldn’t be lured in. I wouldn’t let it go down like that. I couldn’t. I was sure it was a lie but I couldn’t be positive. It’s the best way to fuck a man up – tell him you intentionally destroyed his seed. Tell him he loses and is worthless. Set him up for the ultimate failure then produce it for him.
> “It’s un-fucking-bearable.” If she could know the whole truth. If she could tell the whole truth.
> “What is?”
> “Abortion, asshole!”
> “Oh, Call me asshole.”
> “Asshole.”
> “I love you.”
> “I love you too.”
> “That’s a lie! You are stupid. Fuck off and seriously die!” “You’re so depressing. Look what you did to your wife!” “Lick the dogshit from my boot heel.” “Fuckin’ Loser.”
> “Virginia Woolf was a writer. You gotta make something before you suck cocks in hell,” I replied. I had the thought that she was baiting me. All her words hurt.
> “Get a life and quit thinking about me!! I don’t want you!!!” There was no way out and no way to make it right. I gave her the last word. She hit. “You purposely try to destroy people! You have major mental issues and need serious help!” “Seriously, lose my #” “You don’t know when to stop! Everyone knows!!” “You scare me! I’m changing my number and getting a retraining order!”
And that was it. That was the last word. The end. All enshrined in drugs and booze and lies and a hope that happiness will follow. More victims, little else.

I crawled into bed with the girl. I was numb. Knew little else. Couldn’t make it right. Didn’t know how. The girl got up and left. There really was no out. I knew something. I knew my heart. I knew that there was more than that madness. I knew when it was time to pony up and take punches. I knew the difference between right and wrong. I knew how to suffer and to accept responsibility. I knew it took two. I knew I would go on. I knew I didn’t want that. I knew enough but not enough to stop it. I knew it was time to walk slowly and carry a gun.