Writing to stave off boredom
Isn’t everything just another attempt
To stave off boredom?
To escape the nothing of the mind
Of the world,
Posited in an instant
Forgotten a moment later
And lost in anticipation of the next

We are all petty seekers
Seeking comfort in our actions
Seeking comfort in the belief that we actually are
Anything at all
And not even this knowledge, this truth
Can save us from this ugly fait

Suffering in desire?
Or desire in suffering?
I feel myself slipping into Buddhism so let me just say this
Those ******* haven’t found the answer either
In their claims of awakening
And nirvana in detachment
Only the dead are truly awake
Only in the obliteration of the soul is the soul really content
Only then, is it ready to let go

So then where does this drive come from?
the desire to continue
Life from life
The breath of pulsing intention
That only life seems to have
Only life seems to care
About fait and desire
About life

But then isn’t that the rub
Because even particles have a comfortable state
I remember the words of my professor
“the atoms bond because they want to be in a neutral electrical charge”
The word “want” is supposed to be only semantic
Because atoms don’t really “want” anything
But what is the difference
Between the atom’s “want” and ours?
Don’t we all just want to reach a state
Of neutral charge?