my brain hurts and my mind is reeling across shattered planes of thought   i dont even know which end is up and nothing seems to make sense i have lost my place and have not passed go   i feel the uselessness of wasted positions and wasted time in the pursuit of something intangibly untrue    what can a mere human in a meager quest find in the tangled skein of life and fate    what terpsichorean macabre fusion of light and dark will clear to reveal some white light    what can the words trippingly oozing out of ears come together to say    what should they say    what can they do falling upon the deaf and the blind    when even a cry is drowned by silence what is left to be heard    when even the fumbling fingers cant search for the door    where is the answer to be found    letting go    letting be    letting life    letting the wings spread and fly and learning to wait    what a fickle mistress patience is and what a vile thing to be thrown up from the belly of malice and regret when things seem clear    this is not the bellyaching of a child    or the paranoia of the past present or future    this is the mind that turns and churns in delight and desparation    is the anwer from within or without    or is the answer naught to be found    when is enough enough and when is it just not enough    when does convincing become moot    when does frustration bate    and when does life finally roll the numbers in success    being strong is simply covering weakness and being weak is having the strength to let go    but is all the rhetoric simply sound and fury    where is the marble faun of my minds eye and my hopes desire    on what urn will it be recorded    on what stone will it be etched    to what ode will the life of the cynic be written    and what does it all mean    this is not sadness this is not happiness this is not anger    this simply is    and in one simple word will all things be made clear    in one life one moment and one measure will all the worth be calculated    and then what    then what happens    what ever happened to simply living and living simple    what ever happened to the will of one    what will happen when all the backs are turned and all the fingers are pointed    what will the devil dance to then    will the moonlit howls be in vain or will the primal scream of pandoras box unleash all the imps and demons in the nightmare of the past    and through all this    through all the words and the thoughts and the help and the pain and the sharing and the caring and the love and the hate and the patience and the hoping two words echo in the cavern of the subconscious       never       again

This entry was posted on Tuesday, October 15, 2002 at 11:14 PM. You can skip to the end and leave a response.