Nolan Bucsis

Nolan Bucsis Jul 2019

I endure for I am hard.
Yet the struggles are never easy.
Always rock bottom.
And, I'm assured this is it.

Torment.
Loss.
Absolution.

So many restarted lives I'm the Buddha of malcontents.
Irrational fear.

Isolation.

All the drawn out strained things.
I'm an avatara of falling apart.
The gestalt of sloth.

A zeitgeist.
For failure.

Nolan Bucsis Jun 2019

You know the drill

Depressed.

I'm always depressed and punishing myself for not being well adjusted.
And, I'm always hungry and overthinking.

This oh so familiar ennui.
My isolation.
My grand delusions.
Are really just the most effective time waster I know.

This is all just some strange daze.
Some kinda washed out broken device I can't fix.

My misanthropy has made me give up as all I long for.

Is.
Sweet.
Release.

Nolan Bucsis Jun 2019

Work

It's another meandering miserable day.
Stuck in the rain, shrouded in grey omnipotent clouds.

Here.
Working.

I've always wanted to leave.

Go.
Out there.
Far from the doldrums of dreaded consistency.

Nolan Bucsis Jun 2019

Moment out of time

I feel nothing these days.
As empty as these wind swept dismal grey prairie days.
I find myself in.

It's really just an absence.
Of life.
A catatonic cowboy stuck in yesterday.
Longing for release from the boredom.
Of right now.

Tomorrow seems like an incomprehensible impossibility in this liminal infinite time.
Trying frantically to ossify in right here.
This thought.
This pure.
Unadulterated.
Moment.
Out of time.

Nolan Bucsis May 2019

Something

How do I make this feel better.
How do I **** the memories.
That once I was a beautiful could have been.
But now.
I just whittle away the hours.
Enter anguish when there's no more ****
No more alcohol or hours of video games.
Just to.
Waste my
Time.

Here sitting in my self abnegation.
In my sacred antipathy

Nolan Bucsis May 2019

Feels

I am filled with irrational fear.
And a deep hatred.
Of myself.

Everything crashes.
And I run.
Away
From here.

Into an impossible panic.
Heart dropping.
Knuckle white.
Terror.

I'm tired of living

Nolan Bucsis May 2019

Words, imprecise

I am chased by a ravenous past.

It obliterated right now.

And tomorrow.
Has slipped away into the sublimation of amnesia.

Where I rest.
In a desecrated hollowed out holy land.