Misty, long spring day… what do you have in store for me today? Are you approaching, or are you yet far? Only time will suit to tell apart.
March 8, 2024, 6.51 AM
Just last night I was on the phone with a travel agency. I have long been meaning to pay my dear Persephone a visit, but apparently, I am a renowned member of the local community of this piece of dirt on which I stand – so the lady on the line begged me to move not. I stayed as I was, still at oh-o’clock – her pleas had me utmost convinced to not let go.
I cleaned my slate entirely, doing my best to tread lightly. Existence is said to be a life-or-death matter, so I would rather not challenge my lady luck. Besides, an ox’s worth weighs no more than a goose feather, and the ultimate distinction lies in transcending the relative world with its distinction between life and the nether. There is a deep contradiction in failing to enjoy life and yet fearing death when faced with it, so I am diving in head-first in it. It’s destiny, it’s meant to be, and I’ve been preparing for this all my life, every year, every day, so this is it – it has to be.
The knife that severs the final string is always the least painful one – or so they say. The torments are innumerable, and the horrors many – or so I am informed. I’ve called on Bloody Mary, never to hear her voice of envy – all allegedly, of course. Why would she not be able to reply like a normal person would?
The drink that wishes one goodnight is somehow always the most bitter – or so they say, I say, anyway. I fail to see things that I am certain are right before my eyes, and I make up replacements in their wistful minds. I’ve called on Naomi, only she won’t pick up. Oh Persephone, how I wish I could be by your sweet, sweet side…
I missed the train of thought that I hoped to take to flee its adjacent school. Now all that remains is aftermath, all that remains is null. I am just so upset at the customer service entity, for why could I not be in her shoes? Imagine of the world I would do so much good. Looking down, I see ten fingers staring back at me – where did the eleventh one go? I will likely never know, and that is the unfortunately uncomfortable truth.
My hands are forgetting how to maneuver an old-school cigarette as a red tear trickles down my porcelain forehead. Shopping around for dresses is fun and it is an activity ostensibly never-ending, but what’s the use in it if no specimen winds up flattering me? I look into the mirror, and I am without a doubt looking good, so what is all this disapproval for? What is next, a revoke for drinking water? Is breathing air way out of line? If I cease to exist altogether, will you for it be a happier man? Just give me the simple answer I’m looking for, it can’t be all that hard.
It has been a strange weekend, so I am celebrating as befits such a monumental occasion. I spot myself all tiled up over what should be trifles – trifles, trifles, trifles. No one cares about fruit preserves, quilted comforters, or the songs in their hands. Education is a burden I’ve never come to meet, and I know no culture by hand. I am a no-man’s land in a man, and that is a fact that quite naturally terrifies me. Within me resides an entire ecosystem, virtue and vice alike. A life I took for granted faded before it ever caught its first glimpse of light, even if it existed sunshine incarnate. The ecosystem in me – under its fascist regime of his – obliterated it, tore it to parts until it was so malfigured that you couldn’t identify the body, make out the eyeballs if you tried.
The highly became lowly, the wise foolish, the wealthy poor, the skilled inept. I have forgotten the others, but that is the draft skeleton we’re working with in this resort – complain not, for I am not prepared. The suit was destroyed by the stomach acid of its own, and it ultimately proved poisonous to others in its mawkish fall. It is thus of utmost importance that public health measures be placed in place, to avoid pertinent societal implosion and doom or disgrace.
It was a while of this predicament until this predicament grew pregnant with another predicament fathered by yet another predicament. Before long I found myself the second layer in a Matryoshka doll. I turned around to find my mother rearing me, and I got quite frightened. Behind her was her mother, behind whom was her mother, and so on it went, endlessly, mercilessly, never-endingly. Imagine the scare they will get when it strikes them that such is the case!
The river is all dry by now, though, so I am curious to determine whether tomorrow will bring forth another drought. Everybody wants a gallon to stuff down their body, do they not? If so, where is it? Is the sanction all up with the smoke before all could get their ration? Am I wrong in the head, or does my mom still rear me when I rear back into dread, ending up with us both at the profundity of a pitless well? Another question to which I will never be able to in all confidence reply, atop the big steeple which is also an apt pile.
I am a 35mm film camera waiting to do its job. I like my job, I do, but it is lonely in here, and I might as well be a caterpillar, retreating to the rain and proud to drown. All enjoyment I find in is in development, reverse pyramid trickle-down style. The nearby den is just my house, and I get along with my roommates quite sound. If they don’t beat me up I won’t beat up them, and when all else fails – because it inevitably will – I return right back to Charles. Great buddy of mine, Charles – as are all others, of course. I turn my head down-upside and find myself a playwright, of eulogies an architect. I am force-fed tea by my own hand – I really do annoy myself in such silly manners. I piss myself off to no end, and it is unbearable being myself.
But ultimately, the lady on the line was right – I have something not to drift off for. I will figure it out “along the way” – what a long, long way that must be – and perhaps I will find something to be grateful for for once in this foul timespan I audate to call a “life” of mine. Implied between 3 walls I am, and I am about to fly away and up. We will be back to regular scheduled programming before you can say “regular scheduled programming” nine times fast, so please do hold your applause – now for me wait, and cease and pause.
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