My Name Is Jimmy and You Better Not Wear It Out

I slugged through the days like a fucking zombie.

Light and dark blurred together, making one never ending day.

I barely slept, I drank a whole shit load of coffee, smoked a lot of fucking cigarettes and Mary Jane, and the only thing I ate were chips and things that were laid out at the bar when I forced myself myself downstairs so I could restock my supply of booze and forget about her. But it seemed to have the opposite effect now in comparison to September. When I got drunk I thought about her ever god damn second because the liquor monsters weren't coming back to distract me from thinking about her ---and let me tell you, I was drunk ALL THE GOD DAMN TIME.

Her flaming red hair. Chocolate brown eyes. The taste of strawberries that lingered on her lips.

My train of thought was permanently stopped at Gloria Station in the city of Crazy Town, USA. Population, me.

When I wasn't thinking about Gloria, I was thinking about Tunny.

About how disappointed he would be if he knew how whipped I was for someone who was GONE. He would've kicked me in the nads if he knew I was whipped for anyone, actually.

I wasn't supposed to care about anyone but myself. That was the Golden Rule of his teachings. Go in, get out. If you felt anything other than that complete and total animal attraction to someone, you get the fuck out of there. And I had ignored that. I felt that pulling on my heart strings when I saw her handwriting in my journal. I felt it grow through those weeks and into the beginning of August. I had felt that insanely huge hole in my chest when I read her letterbomb.

She taught me how to live in this broken down city.

She taught me how to fucking love her.

It was so against what I believed in, what I preached to the rest of the god damn City, but I couldn't make this feeling go away.

So here I lay, on the ratty old mattress in my broken down apartment, thinking about anything and everything.

Life and love and how fucked up I had become since meeting her.

How fucked up I had been before I met her.

Thinking about how to make this feeling of emptiness go away.

And I could only see one answer.

I could see the headlines now.

.....................BOY SHOOTS HIMSELF ON THE DOCKS
................................SCREWED UP KIDS BAWL THEIR FUCKING EYES OUT

Would be the most tragic thing in their sad little lives.

I couldn't stop replying the scenario in my head.

I'd borrow a gun from one of those trigger happy kids who live down the block. I'd walk through the City, making sure that all of those kiddies who look up to me get a good look. They'd start following me, thinking I would lead them somewhere fun and dangerous for the first time in months. I wouldn't look at them as we got to the docks. They'd stop, but I'd keep going until I was at the end of the pier. They'd be shouting things at me, nervously laughing.

"Jimmy, what are you doing?"

"Come on, tell us how horrible it was in Shitsville!"

"Jimmy?"

JimmyJimmyJimmyJIMMYJIMMYJIMMY

They'd start screaming when I put the gun to my head and blow my brains out into the water. It would be the most satisfying thing on the fucking planet-

And suddenly I was so fucking sick of saving these idiots.

Tunny's teachings weren't that hard to learn but they all kept coming back for more, like they had to be reminded. I only had to hear them once and I knew where the line was.

I knew how not to step over it, how to keep myself from falling in-

And there it was.

I hadn't kept to Tunny's rules.

I had stepped over the line into no-man's land. I had fallen in fucking love. IN ONLY A FEW GOD DAMN WEEKS. And Gloria's words came back to me.

You're not the Jesus of Suburbia. The St. Jimmy is a figment of your father's rage and your mother's love.

And she was right. I wasn't Tunny. I wasn't the one who was supposed to spout his bullshit for everyone to 'learn' from.

And St. Jimmy was a figment of my fucking imagination these days, even my reflection wasn't real anymore.

I wasn't him anymore. I was just plain ol' god damn JIMMY.

I wasn't what they thought I was.

Not anymore.

Oct. 19
My heart is beating from me
I am standing all alone. Please call me
Only if you are coming home
WASTE another year flies by WASTE a night or two
You taught me how to live in the streets of shame
Where you've lost your dreams in the rain
There's no sign of hope
The stems and seeps of the last of the dope
there's a glow of light. The ST. JIMMY is a spark int he night
Bearing gifts and trust. The fixture in the city of LUST.
"WHAT THE HELL'S YOUR NAME?"
What's your PLEASURE and what's your PAIN?
Did you dream too much?
Do you think what youyou need is a crutch?
In the crowd of pain, St. Jimmy comes without any shame
HE SAYS "WE'RE FUCKED UP"
But we're not the same
And mom and dad are the ones you can blame
JIMMY DIED TODAY
He blew his brains out into the bay
In the state of mind
In my own private suicide