[First Post] 4
When I finally stop,
From the busyness and complaining, the desire for peace - and annoyance that the day does not end, that I cannot be left alone and cannot hear myself think…
I realize there is nothing,
Or at least for the current,
There is a good night out,
But the price of escapism materializes the morning after,
And Sobers the denial to a thick concrete band across the temples,
Twice as real as the previous music and meaningful conversations.
- And ‘screwing around’ results in fast found regrets and shames,
Self-worth confused- and foundations agitated. Who won is complicated,
Was the pleasure all mine? – Or all yours?
Friends will let you down,
As you will them.
And God will get back to you,
After you’ve learnt the fruit of patience,
In an immediate world.
Family dies or falls apart,
Finding new compatibilities,
Advertising is oh so tempting,
‘What happened to good old-fashioned morals? That’s what I want to know.’
What goes up, must come down.
I chase my tail round for days,
Everything is just beyond my grasp,
Until sweet apathy allows me to bathe in indolence and taste the short-lived contentment of comfort,
And then, like falling from a branch,
I crash back to an overwhelming pointlessness,
Knowledge is pain, and comparison renders me insignificant.
I think there is nothing,
-But then I know nothing, truly.
We’re all here for a purpose,
But no one’s quite sure what it is.