Nov 2018
The Moon has abandoned us
We are but blades of grass in a shielded blow
We are merely stones in a river's roll
One day we will be no longer.
We are desperate to cling to
some semblance of reason
but what good does the morrow bring worth breathing today for??
What good is so good that I should stay awake?
We are trying so hard to pretend that sharing our crazy is the least crazy thing
We cling so hard to this notion that we forget to look in the mirror while exchanging pictures of each other instead of reflecting on who we are,
But then, what's the point of reflecting on who we are when all we're capable of is our own life? Literally, the most powerful thing we can do is end ourselves. We aren't so special. We're just bodies with artificial flavors. No semblance of natural beauty; it's all been placed there by our self-serving pursuit of purpose. It's so much easier to believe we suffer for a reason. We don't.
A sad, frail calamity
A ship on endless ocean
Misery loves company, and that's why we've outlawed suicide, because really
You can't tell me you really believe we will be punished for ending our own durations, given to us without permissions,
You can choose your destiny as long as you stay alive. Death is not an option, until it is, and then what?
You're so glad that I'm expressing myself, but you wish i'd say some different things
So glad to see me creative again, but so against the things i say again and again and again and again and I just want somebody to make it all better like when you're 5 and don't know what existence ******* is but you get a cut on your finger and now you exist, but then your momma comes and sticks a band-aid on your finger and the pain of existence is gone. i want that feeling again.
But my mom's antibacterial powers have subsided as the ills have built resistances; they're now resisting penicillin and we don't own anything else right now. I open up my medicine cabinet, anyway. There's Tylenol. At least it'll help to ease the pain.
I take one. I take another. It isn't working. I take some more. Do these have a limit? I think they do. But I can't read at this point. I take another. I take another. I'd be counting but i can't do that, either. I keep taking the pills. I never stop. For all of eternity I take additional Tylenols, until a sad, frail calamity comes home from work and sees a sunken fleshy ship at the end of its ****** and final voyage.
We are but blades of grass in a shielded blow
We are merely stones in a river's roll
One day we will be no longer.
We are desperate to cling to
some semblance of reason
but what good does the morrow bring worth breathing today for??
What good is so good that I should stay awake?
We are trying so hard to pretend that sharing our crazy is the least crazy thing
We cling so hard to this notion that we forget to look in the mirror while exchanging pictures of each other instead of reflecting on who we are,
But then, what's the point of reflecting on who we are when all we're capable of is our own life? Literally, the most powerful thing we can do is end ourselves. We aren't so special. We're just bodies with artificial flavors. No semblance of natural beauty; it's all been placed there by our self-serving pursuit of purpose. It's so much easier to believe we suffer for a reason. We don't.
A sad, frail calamity
A ship on endless ocean
Misery loves company, and that's why we've outlawed suicide, because really
You can't tell me you really believe we will be punished for ending our own durations, given to us without permissions,
You can choose your destiny as long as you stay alive. Death is not an option, until it is, and then what?
You're so glad that I'm expressing myself, but you wish i'd say some different things
So glad to see me creative again, but so against the things i say again and again and again and again and I just want somebody to make it all better like when you're 5 and don't know what existence ******* is but you get a cut on your finger and now you exist, but then your momma comes and sticks a band-aid on your finger and the pain of existence is gone. i want that feeling again.
But my mom's antibacterial powers have subsided as the ills have built resistances; they're now resisting penicillin and we don't own anything else right now. I open up my medicine cabinet, anyway. There's Tylenol. At least it'll help to ease the pain.
I take one. I take another. It isn't working. I take some more. Do these have a limit? I think they do. But I can't read at this point. I take another. I take another. I'd be counting but i can't do that, either. I keep taking the pills. I never stop. For all of eternity I take additional Tylenols, until a sad, frail calamity comes home from work and sees a sunken fleshy ship at the end of its ****** and final voyage.
