What
was so sacred that grimy time now hands me the remains? Who shoves the stifles
of now into my face with a grasp of a sharp harsh silence vacantly stinking up
my questions into reeking distractive confusion? Why bother me now with this
inner discourse to bolster my self-awareness when there is no one to battle
with but the likes of my self-dialogue’s response? Give me my last out breath
back and let’s end this. Everything that is light going forward is a dead end
street coming back. Why do I use the whiplash of the future to fill the vacancy
of the past in its haunting? It’s all cake to me and I have no mouth for it.
Mouth is mind with no boundaries, no means of enjoyment, no manner of chew, no
matter of chatter, and no intake worth the bother. Experience is a fast road’s
view, all whiz and fury, and when I slow down to thoughts and feelings, it’s
litter and refuse, strewn everywhere, a next step might take me. I have a
god-forsaken view and I am claiming it’s not my mess to clean it up! All of my
life force is in the rebellion of ’why-wake-me-up-to-this’ view. I’d rather be
reactive then go home to self-reliant. I don’t know why that is so but it’s
none of your business! So get out of my face with this now shit. My own now is
ventilation and seethe. And I have the fuel to continue it until I fall asleep.
And I don’t need a you to continue to mark off my territory of low self worth.
I will bark all I want and no one yet is going to get the reality tree I piss
on or the collar that captures, off of and away from me!
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