Every step that brought me here
How can I regret them
How can I say that they are not what was needed
Pain and sorrow and stupidity and anger and rage
Pure gluttony and excess
And still
This is where I am
A few steps away
A future I want
But what mayhem will life require
To achieve it
And what price is unpayable
And what choice must not be made
I don’t know
But they must be made
And they will be picked over
Understood
And lamented
And rejoiced
And regretted
Immutable
Forever made
And lived with
Month: August 2020
Shambling sleeper
It’s a hard thing to deal with
….
Nothing
Just this vast empty which yawns every time I sit down to write
I find myself looking for the perfect music to write to
Like music is something I’ve ever listened to while writing
I have to force my attention away from
….
Nothing
Because that’s what fills me up when I choose to write
Just this white noise
Which is the jumble of rage and despair
And bleak nihilist acceptance that even better in my lifetime is a false hope
And still that
….
Nothing
Persists because I have these actionable ideas
These unconscionable ideas
These things that must not happen
Must not be allowed to happen
Because it’s a road that can’t be taken back
So I support as well as I can. Thinking thoughts which I can’t help. And instead
I sit
With
Nothing
Share this:
Time to start moving
There is a nebulous feeling that accompanies knowing that you should be doing something but not knowing how to. It’s a calm moment before the storm. You know that with a simple beginning you will place yourself on a new path. And what that will lead to, you cannot know. So you hesitate. You do something else. And all the while that subtle pressure builds. You know you will give in to it. You know you must. But choosing when is the only thing left to you. So you cling to that bit of control, until it slips away. And you find yourself at the beginning of a path you might not have chosen had you the courage to first set your feet and take that first step.
And instead of orchestrated action, you are forced to leap from improvisation to improvisation always trying to steer things back on course. It gets to be addictive. The improvisation. The averting of disaster by shear force of will, intelligence, and cunning. And that’s when you know. The fall is coming. Maybe not soon, but soon enough. Because no one averts disaster forever. No one remains in lucks embrace. Eventually, it won’t be enough. And hopefully, when you fail, you won’t bring everyone caught up in your wake crashing down with you. Better to set yourself on the path. Better to choose, and be ready to improvise. Use the right blade for the job and everything else will be easier.
Pelgris 