An Introduction If You Please...

I am Murdoc.  Murdoc I am.
I know this because of the cigarette burns on the vanity of my new existence.
Scars seared into countertops have confirmed my travels,
have brought me home.
And so I find myself here.

I was warned by a close friend,
"Don't let anyone know how you feel.  Keep the pity me, I'm so sad bullshit to yourself. 
Make it seem like you're having the time of your life.  Don't give anyone the satifaction
of knowing that they may have knocked you back or down.  Fuck 'em."

And so I find myself here.
Doing the exact opposite of what he instructed.
Because I need to get this ache inside me out.
I need to express this sad music that fills my soul as of late.
I need to purge.

Tonight, while doing my dishes
I froze.
I locked up.
I stood in front of the sink like a statue;
Listening to the sound of my heart breaking
beneath the heavy, rusty iron crush of an inverted Eifel Tower.
It was the creak and brittle stretch of imperfect metal giving way.
And then the tears came.
And I stood there
in front of my sink
like a statue.

And thusly I started the Hit and Miss Engine Papers.