Τρίτη, 9 Σεπτεμβρίου 2008

4.48 pSYchOsiS--Sarah Kane

I am sadI feel that the future is hopeless and that things cannot improve
I am bored and dissatisfied with everything
I am a complete failure as a person
I am guilty, I am being punished
I would like to kill myself
I used to be able to cry but now I am beyond tears
I have lost interest in other people
I can't make decisions
I can't eat
I can't sleep
I can't thinkI cannot overcome my loneliness, my fear, my disgust
I am fatI cannot write
I cannot love
My brother is dying, my lover is dying, I am killing them bothI am charging towards my deathI am terrified of medication
I cannot make loveI cannot fuck
I cannot be alone
I cannot be with others
My hips are too big
I dislike my genitals

At 4.48
when depression visits
I shall hang myself
to the sound of my lover's breathing

I do not want to die

I have become so depressed by the fact of my mortality that I have decided to commit suicide

I do not want to live

I am jealous of my sleeping lover and cover his induced unconsciousness

When he wakes he will envy my sleepless night of thought and speech unslurred by medication

I have resigned myself to death this year

Some will call this self-indulgence
(they are lucky not to know its truth)
Some will know the simple fact of pain

This is becoming my normalityDr This and Dr That and Dr Whatsit who's just passing and thought he'd pop in to take the piss as well. Burning in a hot tunnel of dismay, my humiliation complete as I shake without reason and stumble over words and have nothing to say about my 'illness' which anyway amounts only to knowing that there's no point in anything because I'm going to die. And I am deadlocked by that smooth psychiatric voice of reason which tells me there is an objective reality in which my body and mind are one. But I am not here and never have been. Dr This writes it down and Dr That attempts a sympathetic murmur. Watching me, judging me, smelling the crippling failure oozing from my skin, my desperation clawing and all-consuming panic drenching me as I gape in horror at the world and wonder why everyone is smiling and looking at me with secret knowledge of my aching shame.

Nothing can extinguish my anger.

And nothing can restore my faith.

This is not a world in which I wish to live.

– Have you made any plans?
– Take an overdose, slash my wrists then hang myself.
– All those things together?
– It couldn't possibly be misconstrued as a cry for help.– Do you despise all unhappy people or is it me specifically?
– I don't despise you. It's not your fault. You're ill.
– I don't think so.
– No?
– No. I'm depressed. Depression is anger. It's what you did, who was there and who you're blaming.
– And who are you blaming?
– Myself.

Body and soul can never be married
Insoluble hoping cannot uphold me

I will drown in dysphoriain the cold black pond of my self
the pit of my immaterial mind
They will love me for that which destroys me
the sword in my dreams
the dust of my thoughts
the sickness that breeds in the folds of my mind

After 4.48 I shall not speak again

I have reached the end of his dreary and repugnant tale of a sense interned in an alien carcass and lumpen by the malignant spirit of the moral majority

I have been dead for a long time

I've never in my life had a problem giving another person what they want. But no one's ever been able to do that for me. No one touches me, no one gets near me. But now you've touched me somewhere so fucking deep I can't believe and I can't be that for you. Because I can't find you.

Do you think it's possible for a person to be born in the wrong body?

– Oh dear, what's happened to your arm?
– I cut it.
– That's a very immature, attention seeking thing to do. Did it give you relief?
– No.
– Did it relieve the tension?
– No.
– Did it give you relief?
Did it give you relief?
– No.
– I don't understand why you did that.
– Then ask.
– Did it relieve the tension?
(A long silence.)
Can I look?
– No.
– I'd like to look, to see if it's infected.
– No.
– I thought you might do this. Lots of people do. It relieves the tension.
– Have you ever done it?
– ...
– No. Far too fucking sane and sensible. I don't know where you read that, but it does not relieve the tension.
Why don't you ask me why?
Why did I cut my arm?
– Would you like to tell me?
– Yes.
- Then tell me.
– ASK.
(A long silence.)
– Why did you cut your arm?
– Because it feels fucking great. Because it feels fucking amazing.
– Can I look?
– You can look. But don't touch.
– (Looks) And you don't think you're ill?
– No.
– I do. It's not your fault. But you have to take responsibility for your own actions. Please don't do it again.

love keeps me a slave in a cage of tearsI miss a woman who was never born
I kiss a woman across the years that say we shall never meet

No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope

– It's not your fault, that's all I ever hear, it's not your fault, it's an illness, it's not your fault, I know it's not my fault. You've told me that so often I'm beginning to think it is my fault.


free form

Argument with junior doctor whom she accused of treachery after which she shaved her head and cut her arms with a razor blade.

Where do I start?
Where do I stop?
How do I start?
(As I mean to go on)

How do I stop?
How do I stop?
How do I stop?
How do I stop?How do I stop?
A tab of pain
How do I stop?
Stabbing my lungs
How do I stop?
A tab of death
How do I stop?
Squeezing my heart

My legs are empty
Nothing to say
And there is the rhythm of madness

a scall on my skin, a seethe in my heart
a blanket of roaches on which we dance
this infernal state of siege

The head is sick, the heart's caul torn
Thread the ground on which wisdom walks
Embrace beautiful lies
the chronic insanity of the sane

– At 4.48when sanity visits for one hour and twelve minutes I am in my right mind.When it has passed I shall be gone again,

Cut out my tongue
tear out my hair
cut off my limbs
but leave me my love
I would rather have lost my legs
pulled out my teeth
gouged out my eyes
than lost my love
slash wring punch burn flicker dab float dab
flicker burn punch burn flash dab press dab
wring flicker float slash burn slash punch slash
press slash float slash flicker burn dab

beautiful pain
that says I exist

I came to you hoping to be healed.

You are my doctor, my saviour, my omnipotent judge, my priest, my god, the surgeon of my soul.

And I am your proselyte to sanity.
to resist coercion and constriction
to be independent and act according to desire
to defy convention
to avoid pain
to avoid shame
to repress fear
to overcome weakness
to belong
to be accepted
to draw close and enjoyably reciprocate with another
to converse in a friendly manner, to tell stories, exchange
sentiments, ideas, secrets
to communicate, to converse
to laugh and make jokes
to win affection of desired Other
to adhere and remain loyal to Other
to enjoy sensuous experiences with cathected Other
to feed, help, protect, comfort, console, support, nurse or
to be fed, helped, protected, comforted, consoled,
supported, nursed or healed
to form mutually enjoyable, enduring, cooperating and
reciprocating relationship with Other, with an equal
to be forgiven
to be loved
to be free

– You don't need a friend you need a doctor.
(A long silence.)
– You are so wrong.
(A very long silence.)
– But you have friends.
(A long silence.)
You have a lot of friends.
What do you offer your friends to make them so supportive?
(A long silence.)
What do you offer your friends to make them so supportive?
I feel your pain but I cannot hold your life in my hands.
– I know. I'm angry because I understand, not because I don't.

my body decompensates
my body flies apart
you will always have a piece of me
because you held my life in your hands

those brutal hands
I thought it was silent
till it went silent

how have you inspired this pain?

What am I like?
the child of negation

still black water
as deep as forever
as cold as the sky
as still as my heart when your voice is gone
I shall freeze in hell
of course I love you
you saved my life

the only thing that's permanent is destruction
we're all going to disappear
trying to leave a mark more permanent that myself

Please don't cut me up to find out how I died
I'll tell you how I died
One hundred Lofepramine, forty five Zopiclone, twenty five Temazepam, and twenty Melleril

Everything I had




It is done
I know no sinIt is myself I have never met, whose face is pasted on the underside of my mind

please open the curtains

2 σχόλια:

Κυβέλη Δραγούμη είπε...

σ ευχαριστω παρα πολυ που ανερτησες αυτο το κειμενο ...

το ειχα πολυ αναγκη να το βρω αυτη τη στιγμη ...

σ ευχαριστω ...


Maria-Electra είπε...

h teleftaia anarthsh [2/3/2009] einai apo to Crave ths Sarah Kane :)