Sunday, August 18, 2024

Closing In On Traditional Middle-Age

Elicit dreams of guilt. A sense of something that runs on compassionate grounds. Ideals and thoughts along the faultlines of the decency of humanity. We seek, we dream a new religion but nothing washes away the stain of that feeling. The panicked feeling of being ignored. Muted out and drowned for good reason. The fight's not there and never will be. You can have it all if you turn away right now.

I wanted some company as misery only to make jokes and feel less alone. The feelings of idiocy linger long after the thoughts have subsided and accepted the unity of pain and go it alone. Moving to secrecy and leaving no one but themselves. The static burst and the dreams retreat. Live in grey solitude. The harmless wonder. You never wonder why your friendships are ruined and whether it has something to do with you. You shouldn't live your whole life feeling you've been put upon by the world.

After all you were so self-contained as a child, it's no wonder you were made to feel that something was wrong with you. Maybe there is but it's too late to care now you're closing in on traditional middle-age. These days only the cat's scrapes across your hands make you feel alive. Better to accept reality that you're more than half dead.

Broken and wounded, people aren't for you and you are certainly a joke to them. 10 years have gone by since it crippled you, no use in crying over proverbial spilt milk. Layers go by and the diagnosis will be come soon.

Saturday, August 17, 2024

The Energy Vampire's Guilt

The guilt lingers on for things that were said. Outstay my welcome, I can't argue against how you view it. Isolate the idiot, there's no two ways about it. I just wanted someone to talk to but I must've been a drain. An energy vampire that needed the silent treatment. There's no need to say any more, you were right to do what you had to do.

Wednesday, August 14, 2024

Saliva's Spawn

In polite quarries to quarrel over time and nature.Your nature hippie vibe came with you in a tarot reading. Framing every other gesture as a threat of some sort, we had our best time while complaining on the way home. No wonder why we're so alone. Rickety wooden houses with glass structures, torrential rain to view from a VR Dome. Medicated on the past and the future playing at the same time. The consequences were never made clear. Saliva's spawn and the nature of regret.

You made it sound like the chance was looming. A modern romance so touching and blooming.

Midday yoga's interrupted as the cats come to sit on your face. But there are a million other ways with which the day could start and you're with your friends. Made space, made time - the chances are receding further. But I've got time to take my medicine. No time for squalor, no time for anything at all but the buzz words of a generation so lost in itself.

Could it be that by the forms of disease, I become a victim by certain decrees?

Photographing yourself getting older every day. The shade and filters of neurotic cigarettes, the token gesture of an anxiety attack. If I could have walked in the forest alone. To see what junk was left behind. The targets of many an escape clause come closer to make one feel good. To see you in that rickety old house way off in the forest. We are with time, a closing statement finalising deals for how our deaths will go. Small print, fine print - the legacies of greed we've left behind and still I wanted to feel like I had a chance to spin the wheel.

The next time you put on your disappearing act, let it be that your clothes are intact.

Friday, August 2, 2024

In The Shards of Our Past

With time that passed we line up again. Your legs take you only so far. Dream like sequences with blurred vision. New derision from calls made a thousand years ago. Or so it felt like when passion called and fashion had us sold in an embrace of acquaintances. I slowly make my dreams in the shards of our past.

New lives, new dawn, new ways to drown all preceding hope. Intercepting lives is just a phone call away. Living as a ghost with flesh and bone. New dreams to call your own. To call off when the time comes. The anxiety you induce privately, switches to publicly seduce all incomers. Remember the price that was paid while your health does the shimmies, the shakes and the jolts that come it.

Sell me a dummy and I'm your perfect fool - the pain in my body means I was practically worthless to you. I'm just exhausted in the art of pretences. Wallow in misery with a withering intensity. I alienate myself from everyone I ever talk to - and there are those who will do so before I say a word. Too much damaged goods, too many brave faces. I never could relate anyway....it's probably why I'm here in the first place.