GUILT.

Jack Tait woke up alone and free.  depressed and sad.  he drank fourteen beers and one bottle of Jack Daniels last night and thought about his life.  he thought about all the good times.  the bad times.  he thought about long lost loves and long lost friends.  he also thought about lost opportunities and lost family members.  he even thought about his Dad.  he was one big old saggy sappy naked lonely man.  Jack Tait decided to take a shit and drink some water.  hoping his mind would stop thinking.  stop reminiscing.  it didn’t.  no matter where he went or what he did he thought of the past.  living alone in his mind and body.  he had one or two friends but they were squirrels and even they were getting old and lonely.
  Jack Tait closed his eyes and fell asleep.
  suddenly he was back to his forties.  he had two kids.  one wife.  one house.  one nut.  he even had a few friends.  he was extremely horny and extremely happy.  girls looked at him.  he looked at girls.  he went to concerts.  got drunk.  masturbated.  and even fucked the odd time.  Jack Tait wished he was twenty again when there were no commitments and little guilt.  Jack Tait walked the streets of a big city and was STUCK.  he could fuck young hot girls but would feel GUILT.  he could jerk off to young hot girls but he would feel GUILT.  he could leave his non sexual wife and two great kids but he would feel GUILT once again.  he was a man stuck in guilt and stuck in life.  he looked up to his heroes.  Bukowski.  Kerouac.  Jim Morrisson.  but he was not one of them.  he was stuck in “average” land in an “average” world.  society getting the better of him.  the puppets winning the race.  the bores controlling poor Jack’s mind.  he sat.  and sat.  and sat some more.  fully clothed and fully fucked.  years passing by quickly.  a man filled with love and guilt and anger and more guilt.  Jack decided to lash out.  he walked the streets looking for random fucks and random nights of drinking.  he forgot about his wife and beautiful kids.  he forgot about his shit job and shit boss.  he forgot about everything shitty and lived life once again.  he grew out his hair and grew out his beard.  he even grew out his penis and grew out his one ball.  JACK TAIT WAS ALIVE AGAIN.  “FUCK EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING.  I AM JACK TAIT AND I WILL FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOU HARD.  PS…NO STRINGS ATTACHED!!!”
  Jack Tait was happy.  alive.  his wife and kids were sad.  depressed.  they sat and thought about why their Dad would leave them.  they also waited by their white door and hoped for a safe return.  they waited and waited.  cried and cried.  they even played Crazy Eights and laughed once.  days turned into weeks which then turned into months and eventually years.  JACK TAIT WAS LIVING HIS LIFE AGAIN!!!  JACK TAIT FUCKED.  JACK TAIT DRANK.  JACK TAIT JERKED OFF.  JACK TAIT FUCKED SOME MORE!!!  JACK TAIT WAS ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  after two and half years of fucking and sucking and drinking and puking and shitting and yelling and eating shit food and having shit conversation Jack Tait was alone once again.  he lay on his crappy futon on the floor of his shitty apartment and looked up at the shitty ceiling.  he was shaking and cold.  he was also sweating and scared.  he began to cry.  he missed his old life.  his old wife.  his kids and his house.  he missed his “average” life and “average” job.  he missed his friends and his Dad.  he was guilt ridden and lonely.  he fucked many girls and drank many bottles of Jack.  he lived free and lived hard but was suddenly STUCK in GUILT once again.  TORTURE.
  Jack Tait woke up alone on his shitty purple reclining chair in his shitty farmhouse in the middle of nowhere and looked at his wall of family photos reminding him of good times.  lost times.  happy times.  he wished  he could go back and change everything but it was too late.  he is stuck in guilt now the way he was stuck in guilt then.  nothing is worse than being stuck in guilt and stuck in shame.  big heart equals big feelings and in a world filled with fake people and fake hearts Jack Tait remains alone and remains sad.  REMAINS GUILTY AND REMAINS MAD.
  Jack Tait fell asleep once again and hoped for a better dream this time.
  poor Jack Tait.