when one stray thought
leads to a nasty contemplation
and then yet another, agonising reflection
until you can’t seem to remember how to breathe
what will, what control?
when this merciless beast, one sleepless night
resolves to squeeze and yank and pull
until you helplessly break down into shards that
you will have to warily adhere with the sore fingers of your soul
and clutch close to yourself the next morning
that dawns on you like a hangover that you sublimely pretend
to have so you don’t have to dwell on what happened
in the night that had bygone
your consciousness screams out to your being
that thrives in the most perfect, miraculous situations
happy, overjoyed, you should be
yet the gnawing monster finds its way into your soul
effortlessly dodging all the blows that rationality throws its way
and this makes for the end of
the peace that once
reigned on your
struggling
spirit
what use, what reason?
of this vain, uncompromising passage of time
when the same could have been used to give rise
to a sensational experience, reminisces to treasure for life
or perhaps to illusions of the expectations your psyche ever so eagerly
puts forward to your intellect, for careful and everlasting contemplation
it’s all a choice, they’ll say
life is only what you make of it
don’t give them the power to dictate your bliss
and there will be nothing they can do that could
bother you severely so
but sighting oasis after oasis
days after days of persisting thirst
you lose hope of finding your way
failing, to notice the gleaming spring
of chaste liquid that lies
beyond the last,
only the last
towering dune
that you refuse
to conquer
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC
when one stray thought
leads to a nasty contemplation
and then yet another, agonising reflection
until you can’t seem to remember how to breathe
what will, what control?
when this merciless beast, one sleepless night
resolves to squeeze and yank and pull
until you helplessly break down into shards that
you will have to warily adhere with the sore fingers of your soul
and clutch close to yourself the next morning
that dawns on you like a hangover that you sublimely pretend
to have so you don’t have to dwell on what happened
in the night that had bygone
your consciousness screams out to your being
that thrives in the most perfect, miraculous situations
happy, overjoyed, you should be
yet the gnawing monster finds its way into your soul
effortlessly dodging all the blows that rationality throws its way
and this makes for the end of
the peace that once
reigned on your
struggling
spirit
what use, what reason?
of this vain, uncompromising passage of time
when the same could have been used to give rise
to a sensational experience, reminisces to treasure for life
or perhaps to illusions of the expectations your psyche ever so eagerly
puts forward to your intellect, for careful and everlasting contemplation
it’s all a choice, they’ll say
life is only what you make of it
don’t give them the power to dictate your bliss
and there will be nothing they can do that could
bother you severely so
but sighting oasis after oasis
days after days of persisting thirst
you lose hope of finding your way
failing, to notice the gleaming spring
of chaste liquid that lies
beyond the last,
only the last
towering dune
that you refuse
to conquer
