Oct 2023
I see and hear it all this dreary night. Sirens of many varieties under a sickly pale green moonlight. Police, ambulances, firefighters, hell, maybe even the army is involved. And all for such a little, insignificant, measly thing with no ramifications at all. Looking at the moon unbound by a window is far brighter but I float back inwards to see the gorgeous, yellow, orange and red flames licking my former room and what remains of my belongings. There is nothing left of me, but it was over quite quickly, so there is no need to complain. Some little ghoulish figure set a fire under my bed claiming it would finally warm me, then blamed it on me when the flames consumed both it and I. Nothing is better now than it was before, yesterday and the day that preceded or the day that came even before then, although the lord knows I can't even remember that far back. Nothing is better, as I was saying, because there is nothing to do, and nowhere to be, no one to see and nothing to look forward to. The heavens wouldn't take me, but hell rejected me too. It was a few minutes ago that I learned that those wise crazies from centuries ago, who had called the soul undying, were right, but anamnesis simply wouldn't come and I was not worthy of apotheosis.
So even what little I could hold in my hands, the sparks of warmth that I was given oh so rarely, had moistened and turned to drops of water, and I could not even join the fire and the cosmic jubilee. I looked upon my scorched abode once again and sighed. Or would have, had I lungs still, but it seems incorporeal beings have their limitations. No matter, limitations and disappointment were nothing new to me. I floated onward to lament and hope for another day where maybe, just maybe, some body would need a wandering, lonesome soul. Eventually, after hours became days and those days became weeks and those weeks became months and those months became years and those years became worthless to keep counting out to myself, floating turned into such a **** chore. Sitting was impossible, so that was out of the question, as well. And it simply wouldn't come. I eventually forgot what it even was that I was waiting for, and with nobody around, nothing would even remind me. Alas, existence can be tedious, but non-existence is just such a bore.
So even what little I could hold in my hands, the sparks of warmth that I was given oh so rarely, had moistened and turned to drops of water, and I could not even join the fire and the cosmic jubilee. I looked upon my scorched abode once again and sighed. Or would have, had I lungs still, but it seems incorporeal beings have their limitations. No matter, limitations and disappointment were nothing new to me. I floated onward to lament and hope for another day where maybe, just maybe, some body would need a wandering, lonesome soul. Eventually, after hours became days and those days became weeks and those weeks became months and those months became years and those years became worthless to keep counting out to myself, floating turned into such a **** chore. Sitting was impossible, so that was out of the question, as well. And it simply wouldn't come. I eventually forgot what it even was that I was waiting for, and with nobody around, nothing would even remind me. Alas, existence can be tedious, but non-existence is just such a bore.
