Nolan Bucsis

Nolan Bucsis Apr 14

Nihilo

Love.
What was love to me.
Other than someone.
I could throw away.
And,
did.

Babe.

I can't care anymore.
Your absence isn't important.
Your presence was a bit of a.
Burden.

You're just here.
Now.
Perpetually leaving cause.
I can't think about tomorrow.
Or where you'll be.

After.
I leave.

Nothing in me yearns.
For another person.
More than a single night.

My schizoid salvation in.
Right now is
never lonely.
It's poignant.

Love?
I don't know that.

Whispers old women tell to children.

Sentiment.

Nolan Bucsis Apr 14

Perpetually unconscious.

I'm just waiting to die.
Passing the time.
From here to then.
In a miserable way.
Sublimated into a dream.
Perpetually unconscious.

Nolan Bucsis Apr 14

Life Lessons

As I testify before God.
They are nothing but passing memories.
I forgot too soon.
To really get attached.
And, the images change.
The scenery recedes.
I find myself somewhere else.
Knowing, only.
That I'm always right here.
And you.
Just a rotating cast of people.
I don't need.

Nolan Bucsis Apr 13

Thoughts on Self

They like to lament.
About the person I used to be.
As though them ignoring me.
Leaving me in the wilderness.
Means I have a defined self.

And,
It's always my fault

How dare I change from the ossified.
Memory they have of me.
How dare I grow my own way.
And, they cry to the heavens.
At the death of my optimistic youth.

But they were never there.

When I needed them.

They define me.
As someone I wasn't.
And mourn the loss.
Of the fantasy.

Nolan Bucsis Apr 10

Terror

We're dead already.
And we're just witnessing.
The story.
Of the process.

Of death.
And, we lament.
The dying of the light.
In the dark we cannot see.
Anything familiar.

And.
Things are moving.
Unknown.
And
Menacing.

Nolan Bucsis Apr 6

Samsara or Something

Perpetually broken and always.
Falling apart.
I take the refuse of my broken mind.
And,
Deal with my day to day needs.

Interspersed with what other people would call.
Deep thoughts.

But, It's just a distraction.
From the eternalism of the present.

And, I sure hope reality isn't recursive.
Cause I'd hate to live this life.

Again.

Nolan Bucsis Apr 2

Stasis

Everything hurts.
But not as much.
As this death of my motivation.

I feel like doing it again tomorrow.
And in each objective bypass.
I am dissipated within.
The death of a passion.

And, the rise of.
Mediocrity.