Emotional exhaustion . . . animal constipation
you say things are good
what you have to say isn’t far behind, but . . .
. . . you know it’s not.
memory no longer serves . . .
because it doesn’t dare
because all the good days are gone
and it’s just you
and are you up to making new days?
it doesn’t seem like it
So what happens?
the house falls in
you go two or three floors down into the basement
and you wait to die!
It comes down to the fact that you lost
you lost the game
‘un sujet d’mort’
it’s the only topic that you know now
End, . . . the barrier, the border, the hallway
the walk goes on
but only has one inevitable course
it’s a little pompous, I know
but . . . it is inevitable
you look into chaos and provide a rational explanation for everything
and then turn around and pat yourself on the back
because now you say you know everything
certainly about what you just made a pronouncement about
But then you forget when you’ve realize that your life is droll
the same boring tedious
you forget that that part of the chaos that you dismissed is where the magic happens
and now you are too far away to get back to that part
because it is chaos
and it’s moved on
but you haven’t!
when farting becomes more passionate than sex
the relief of discomfort becomes more important than pleasure
Short . . . short but necessary thoughts
for the prolongment of life
pick yourself up, put things back
the way they should be
move on . . . try to find love again
as imperfect as that might be
Try to find some sanity by having some human feelings again
not just . . . explain away the doubt
that would be a start
of finding a reason of still wanting to still be alive
take these things seriously
instead of just saying that is what it comes down to
do it, or don’t
that’s how it is . . .