Entry 2


Entry 2

28 July 21 19:00

Well it’s looking like things are well on there way, on coming to a close. Not long now before I’m off on leave and then going to my surgery, too be off on sick leave for a few more weeks. Then when I come back its release time for me, giving me the end to this Luke warm journey. It will be strange being out for the first little while, after the closing finally takes hold. To have no where to go back too, a seemingly endless sense of haunting freedom. To go from a place of restrictions, to an anything goes mantra, a laissez-faire stance on happenstanceical quandaries.

But I do know where I’m coming from, and the knowledge of it will keep me from yearning so vehemently against the grounded sensibilities of a common lifestyle. Most never yet realize just how much freedom really means. To be wholly clear and in my own mind again, I thought I need something more, but in the exploration of said more, these aspirations revealed themselves to be fallacious in nature, leading to this tormented droning existence I do now inhabit. To know for certain the path before all this, outside interference transpired, was more true and comfortable then this long drawn out corridor, to dark to see the edges, feeling more empty than hollow. All I have is my mind, all i see is a dream, and the end is near. So, Its almost that time, to step back….

…… into my quantum suicide

Entry 1


Why do I feel so empty?….

I lay here at this boring and depressing place, waiting for the next week to begin. I feel as if I’ve become like the conquered Azurin, just another automatic function, a being of vanished purpose. But just when I think I have no ideas left, the well becomes wet with pluralistic imaginations.
I want so vehemently for this time of my life to be over and done with. To begin again, my true progression through life as I know it. Returning from this estrangement where in which I have become ensnared by a ghostly burdening, belying betwixt broken branches beyond the trampled trails that guided me here, through this passage in purgatory, to the glimmering light at the end of this journey.
Emboldened to cross back over, the last awaits within deliverance from this encumbered mind so weighed down by the heavy concept of divergent emotions constant entrapment.
Though as I exhale my breath so still, it too yet lingers as I do…

waiting for release…

Incomplete


Life’s nothing but a confusing puzzle….The more you complete, the more you begin to realize just how many pieces have gone missing over the years. Making you bear witness to all that you regret. though, it’s only in the end we realize, those final pieces we’d been searching for, never existed in the first place. As every life has empty spaces, regardless of your best intentions. That’s what makes us human, the will to carry on, even if you can’t say who you are is without regret. All the same, piece together a legacy you can call your own, in all its incomplete, imperfect, unique, glory.

Abaddon


Is it night or is it day, I cant seem to tell anymore, all the colors seem so muted. A wailing of vexation, the clouds of thunderous silence, forming closer than I’d hoped. The bastardization of a malicious incantation, fix me now, sweet sounding deviation. Hindrance gaining ground, passions waning, secret of the artforms, commiseration. Populace now populating, this pestilence of the damned in waiting. See me from whence I came, to bleed me dry a final flame, senseless truth a crying shame. Feed the bewildered beasts, of festered meats, slurping and slobbering, time to stoop the hollowing, go reap the wallowing. Entwined, I do break bread, err to whisper, do i feel dead. Spent and warn, failure of the first born, set upon, the seekers swarm. The king of locusts comes, bringing torment, and lamentation, laying waste to all creation. Abaddon, the place of destruction, with sands of crumbling flesh and bone, lightning strikes glassing these fields of omen. The beast comes to bear, seated at the head of the table, with Kain and Abel. It’s the last supper now, with remnants of decay, fear not this coming age, the world is ours, so give it rage.

Bloom


Who can say, when a lifes in full bloom. Do we decide, or does the world tell us when we’re set in the perfect spot. Do we sit and bask in the sun at the summit, or foot of the mountain. Is it us that casts the shadow, or do we starve in the dark overhang of another we find greater. I know what I choose, so let us all sit at the giants table, even if we are small, we all have the potential to cast a shadow a mile long. And make it so, the smallest lonely flower, atop the greatest of ranges, is the height of excellence.

Archetype


Who am i…..
Am i lost, a wanderer cast out doomed to venture further and further into the wastes of a mind only comsumed by darkness.
To have such capacity for good, and yet so demonstratively brutal a vicious intent. towards hate and artfully disseminated machinations of destruction. I have touched down where others thought not possible, to fall down a bottomless pit only to prove wrong the will of man. To be insane and realize it, truth lies in reality, lying in wait to steal unkempt breaths. fearing time, though time does not exist, but in the mind, an idea, an abstraction, a custom of knowledge, the cadence of curtailed freedoms self expression. Systemic of its intention to breed more dishonest foreboding epitaphs of humanity’s hubris. I have nothing but contempt for the human species, this race of desiccation, greed and monotony. Crude and crueler fates align, eloquently baroque beauty of selfless inhibitions, over arching narratives bleed for bleeding sake. Forgetting the one fact that stakes claim to the heart of true providence, incredulity.
Master of wanting but master of none, narrow your vision, quiet discontentment. Grasp but one thing attainable, to use as steping stones to reach the next trial that awaits.
Who is this…who am i becoming now….
I plug my ears, listening to my heart beating, and yet i can’t feel it, until i think about feeling it. Such a limited mind we have, and we expect of ourselves, to know it all. how many kilobytes of useful knowledge do we possess in this zetabyte ad infinium system we call a mind. Most can’t even string together a few paragraphs worth let alone make a cohesively affective argument. So I guess it could be said I take my literary and standard intelligence for granted; then again I’ve structured a life that can be lived with such ease, an asured fate, that any lesser mind could lead it. so if i had my persistent cumulative intellectual growth halted or even reverted back to a time i still believed in fairy tales, would it really matter. Actually it might bring me some level of peace if thats what i wanted.
Though, what do I want, what is it I’m really after when all’s said and done. What I truly want is in the course of my routine self reflection, to for once, feel that i have something concrete i can offer. When you look under the veil of who i am in the world, this mask i present, you see a depth rarely legitimate in the eyes of this world. I keep relying on my own outdated ideals, to show nothing but let be discovered the real fathoms, the unbridled elation of finding, I am more than anyone thought possible. All this has never brought me happiness. I have only known misery in this life, because instead of the intended effect of discovery of hidden ability, it has only led me to becoming an expert at subversion. And in a world where most can’t see beyond a very narrow margin, I just seem as hollow as I allowed others to see me, as a being devoid of all things, never allowing anyone to discover that, which i have become master at cloaking…….

Coming Conclusion


I want to see the sky, I want to see you lie, these words aren’t meant for you, there meant for I. Idolatry, iconoclastic, take me passed this burning matchstick. Robbed of sight and hard of hearing, lead astray to life’s grand clearing. Does the night yet long for the day, lingering fraught with agony and dismay. The tortured soul fixed between two equal impossibilities, and the walls are closing in. I feel as if I could drown in the shallow end of my intention, the weight of a decision still creeping beyond apprehension. What makes a man, how come no one seems to understand, that I wake up everyday, alone and in pain. A pain, I can not see, or taste, or touch, I’ve felt it for so long now, a desire to be known. Though, I fear I’ll miss the serene silence I’ve become accustomed to, wondering if making an impression, is really worth the trouble. Will I be a dead poet in a society of some distant future, before I finally make, my mark on the world.

Stop looking


just for tonight stop looking……
to discover whats already here…
so where does my adventure begin,
what great ocean awaits….
i must first define what i need to stop looking for so i can know myself, but not what i imagine myself to
be, because the person i dream of, is an illusion blocking me from the truth. i imagine a man, great, noble, brilliant, but also; licentious, corrupted, and insane; i imagine a man wanting the best for the world, to see all suffering eradicated and true utopia arise as humanity reaches for its full potential, and yet; lustfully dreams of destruction for all things, to drag the world so far down, our eyes sufficate in the all consuming shroud of darkness, and the sounds of the dying…the cries of the dead…, become a continuum of agony, as dystopia desends upon humanity, they reach for the ashes of a broken future.
that is who i imagine i am….
but i also imagine a “real” version,
a secondary illusion…
i see a ghost, a watcher, moving through life on an empty train, looking out through the window, time moves fast, only lingering on the times i should have been, i often wonder; wandering from instant to
instant, why am i, who am i, where do i belong, the world turns to dust as i watch the home movies of my life over…..and over, trapped inside the misery of my own soliloquy. a solitary existance, carefully planning one move to the next, trying to avoid failure, but failing to start playing. i also see a shadow, silent, guarded, and afraid; quietly afraid of what i have to say, i fear I’m hiding who i am today, always living behind, the times eroding my memory, what do i do, when will be to late, why…..?, these things i say inside my head, as the world eclipses me, my eyes bleed, clearly i taste the bitter reality, all i have is nothing, a glass waiting and just that, the substance of my forfillment is unobtainable, and yet
inescapable….on a ghost train to nowhere…..
and now…….what is left?………

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