Bring About Their Idea of Utopia

The imitation paid well between the ears amongst the fears that's been going on for years. A shaded impact left with nothing to see but with the feeling of bruised love in its shadow. You may not like my views but at least we are respected for what we are. Just remember to stay silent when the time comes - a sentiment not shared by those around us.

You may remind yourself of all the things that went before. The tormented dreams of fantasists who bear the will of destruction to bring about their idea of utopia. Whatever that may entail. But they chastise those who don't see things that they do and cleverly manipulate history to create hostility. An eradication of mind, body and spirit and a cynical invention to win the hearts and minds of the apathetic.

You see us in the shadows ready to attack. We will use the fabric to lie and smear for what we want. Your governments, your ministers are all paid off and we will win in the end because that's what we believe. You'll only create more hostility if you're not with us. You cannot be against us on this.

All the wasted lives killed for one man's delusion. The pictures don't look good and the lies are not as convincing as before. All the money spent and what do we have? What do we gain out of this? Just another man with a God complex and his lackeys spilling blood in the hope that their clan will never go after them.

No Way To Live (The Chronic Illness Handbook)

And so we start again, in time, in space and feature out in a new maze. The depression sinks and weaves its way. Setting the music to match the way things are. But even if it were out of misery, there's nothing like what goes before. Even if we dance the dance and dream of better days, I'd be too weary to wave back. I'd be too weary to even focus on anything.

I find it exhausting in all honesty. I don't have the strength to maintain friendships and conversations. Just all too awkward and draining of my time and energy. A vastly depleted source of life. It's to my benefit that I still manage some on the right day. I wish there was a way out that was painless to everyone but to be a slave to commitments is all that I have left.

The source of pain lingers in all places. Transmitting itself wherever it goes. Autoimmunity has been compromised and takes it up another level. And what do you have left? I have nothing at all! So speaks the guy with all the ailments. Might not be that way but it gets very close. One step closer in painfully slow fashion. Knee braces help tremendously when they're not covered in sweat.

What sort of life do I live? What sort of life did I want? I could breathe with the anxiety of a hyperactive ghost, but I'm only working at a snail's pace. And that's no way to live.

What Was I Talking About Again?

The fog folds over me with a pressure of intentions. Cascading through reigns and making life pain of forgetfulness. The vibrations of modern life, the vicissitudes of venting spleen. All the blank heart, blank mind stares as we come crawling over the hill in blood and dungeon - a secret letter to our oncoming demise.

The mist lingers like any good soul and steals information without so much of a fuss. Rolling in bent double on the lawns, too many people have been forgotten in a sieve-like memory. I look forward to seeing how we debate our lives with the only thing that can come good to certain practitioners - the onset of damn lies!

Wherever you feel is the best way to go, whichever you feel should be the way to common decency, we'll fall into line grouchily to see whose lamb you slaughtered. We're not the same onlookers we were yesterday. We'll have a different opinion to suit our needs. And when the time comes, I'll tell you "What was I talking about again?"

Misread Intentions

Misread intentions - here's the glory boy's joy. Holed up in frustration over something that's pure. I don't even love you yet you fear for your life. Why interact when there are screens everywhere?

Misread intentions - no point in being coy. Just conversation is all I'm really asking. Friendship is not the same as romance. But second guessing intentions is an international sport. I'm sorry for interrupting I'd just thought I'd pass it on!

Misread intentions - stitched up to be the foil. I'd just appreciate honesty instead of dancing on my tiptoes around what is and what is not allowed. Mutual understanding remains demanding on a wavelength. Drift on away from the scene.

A sense from a broken time, another life. It's what they always say. Or rather what they don't. Leaving indecipherable hints when they could just say it.

Comply With My Regulations

Making schedules just to tear them up again. Living on frustrated dreams and tearing people inside out for making your job more difficult. It's the same as it was before - someone asks a question and you make a theatre of bile and ridicule. Share your anger and it ends up in the wrong place. A distant time yet the same face.

Withholding information for a long time as he hasn't done what I've told him. His complaints ring hollow to me even if they are the truth. Tired routines, tired excuses. I could gaslight him into losing weight, women have had to suffer it all these years, let's see how he deals with it. I don't want to hear him speak, the snivelling little gobshite. He's young so what the fuck does he know? Only I know where the answers are and not only that I HAVE THE ANSWERS TO EVERYTHING!

Send a little letter so that I can persuade them to take him off the list. I'll send it twice in case he rips up the papers. I've denied him proper medication for three years because the infection is more important. All those years telling him his bloods are okay. All I want is an easy life, string all these people one way or another if they happily comply with my regulations. This poor bastard didn't and it's his own fault.

The pain that he feels is real. He exhausted all options. But you believed there has to be some mistake. You look up for files that aren't there. He had the main thing done elsewhere. So what do you know about treating patients. What do we know about your patience? Very thin on the ground. Don't look at his face, just tell him to sit and don't move the chair.

If you really stopped caring, if you really stopped believing, if you would let a person speak out why they feel worried, we'd probably get somewhere. You and the people who work under you really go for the controlled aggression when a patient gets difficult. If they perceive something in my tone that's not really there, I'd apologise but not after rinsing their hands of me.

Keep playing god, you're the one who has an idea of how it really is!

Make Room In That Coffin

 Death frosted over as I'm looking for an escape. Dreaming of another world while stuck in a rut with a body scaling in skin. So many days are left just thinking of how many lives could be lost within someone's head in the span of morning, noon and night and all inbetween. I'm the one creeping out hoping no-one lets me in. 

Plastic embrace, wasted face. The thoughts of yesterday's lip fillers aimed high but no killers. Disappear into the outlet of memory. The thoughts fleeing into the recess of it all. I don't remember the standard life we had planned. And yet I don't understand how I feel when there's nothing left to feel but the pain inside my body. The hoodoo voodoo dolls got me good. I'm just surprised they haven't killed me yet.

You can see it all in the varnished truth that stakes its claim in lies. The machine we know so well can let us in on an answer that is being kept out by official sources. Smears, slurs and lies, the outlet of the rich descending across the nation, happily deciding the politics of every other nation. Dead heat = dead meat - we're in deep shit. The perameters of time won't heal us from the destruction we face.

Whatever you do, make room in that coffin for me. Whatever you see, don't tell them my name! 

It remains to be seen how I fare from the act of oversharing. The vicissitudes of modern life are a chore and I must be a deathly bore. Nevermind, I understand, I just wanted to get things off my chest. Pent up anxiety takes its toll on me and I could dream but then I can't.

I just wanted a clear conscience. I guess that's too much to ask for