waking up with a sheering sensation
beyond a measure of the simpler nakedness
found in and bound to animals:
very much alive like the bark isolated from
a dog
and all the same with it:
i have no recollection of my nightly rummaging
in nouns:
sacred nouns whereby a "thing" should be named
once and only once and then
understood as a hidden noun
that is "there" but is more (not less) "there-being";
it's almost hilarious how you can
infuse Heidegger's philosophy with
Hebrew mysticism, although i recently understood
that the study of the Qabbalah is not
uniquely Hebrew in origin but is tinged
with a collectivist reminder of man: to man...
so upon waking
i lay in bed playing countless brain-rot videos
of epic fails and click-baits of pretty girls
pretending to not be involved in *******
and thus post-modernity of post-modernism
yawned and there was nothing but
a sobering grip of fear-realism...
nearing 40 i must be fathoming the most silly
endeavour - marriage: so there is someone
out there for me that can work with my weaknesses
and... it becomes easier rereading some of
the passages from Steppenwolf and doubly easier
to reread a postcard a girl-friend once sent me from
university and she really made a mockery of
the postcard because she really should have
written a letter but she wanted her affections known
for others to read to me subsequently "find"
with an oops! moment of.... her grammar exam
and that she was writing that at 1am
and that's just it: from the cult of James Joyce
to the cult of Nietzsche to no cult of Jon Fosse
and it breaks: heart whizz will and mind to be so staged
excited as i am i can't tell it apart from fear
or how mortality is woven into the fabric of immortal
things and how impossible it is or admire
with a scientific anaesthetic this world of wonder
"companionship" as if it were to ever compliment
our impeding uneventful neglect though
through no ilk sin or anything for that matter:
just the random chance (and roulette) -
so i guess another ***** sharpshooter
(which is not even a cocktail but a disproportionate ratio
of ***** to mixer, more a mascara for the plum
sinner eye thumped in silly - ***** in disguise,
but i like the term sharpshooter) -
yet this fear, this excitable fear this...
oh such an unbelievable
feeling that cannot properly filter through
too many sensations...
this heart of a drowning this pitiable
courage for what generally happens
to most people, almost everywhere.