compelled to distill some sense from the gnarled mass of thoughts
like a tangled skein of yarn convoluted into incomprehension
pathetically conflating this sensation, this phenomenon
of not feeling any pain
merging this concept with
happiness
knowing it is hollow, a dessicated rind of delusion
enclosing the horrific, intrinsic void
this nullifying nadir of my existence
at the hopeless bottom of this gravity well
embraced on all sides by impossibilities
what more, indeed, what more can a man ask for?
as I stifle my desire, crush it like a spent, empty beer can against my forehead
because what is desire but suffering?
but still knowing that stillness is death
can my soul ossify, perhaps? fossilized, smashed down by the
weighing strata of fear fraught with failure
I think: Atlas with the world on his back
the doomed caryatid falled under her burden
my soul crystallizing into dead, still carbon
(you ever think of diamond as the sad remains of some creature?
some sad creature as myself
crushed down into something that sparkles at last)
times like this, I wish I could implode
like a star shining bright
my heart blazing like a hellacious furnace
committing violent acts of creation
raging with the tempest of a stellar wind
illuminating the aching void of the cosmos
Oh.
I am but a man
alone, and doomed to die
and days like this I wonder
if that is all I have left to look forward to.