Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Atlantic Purgatory

Lady would you love me if I left her,
Laid, breathless in the sun?
My lady like a teacup on the counter,
Frail, pleasing everyone…

I have failed myself today and have relapsed into antiquities yet again. I didn’t eat well today, some what of an extension of my mind clouded by self-judgement. I think of all of them and the profound and non-profound effect that I have/had on their lives and the first place I go too, the first question I always consider is if my existence were to be eradicated today at this very moment, would I be remembered. Possibly for the first few weeks but after that I would only be a tablet that one could refer to, like the commandments, perceptively of course. A “what not to do” for that future special someone that has overwhelmed them in all the ways I could never. And the memories and experiences have reduced all interpretations of this so called love thing to nothing but a withered rose petal hung to dry and crushed by the wind. I don’t believe in love anymore. I can’t trust it anymore. I’ve been beaten down and cornered too many times and now all that is left is a dim logic of reality that perhaps is far too faded to recognize; worn out like an old watercolour painting that once had meaning and substance. So I guess I should move on to some other belief, some other certainty that at the very least, could give me a sense of guidance or a sense of purpose. A life of expression without love. I would live in a mad world where the absurd is the familiar. Where the dreams in which I’m dying are the best visions to be had. A daily race of accomplishment that leads to nowhere. A land where love does not exist. I’ll call it Purgatory. Yes, the island of Purgatory. Or perhaps a purgatory ocean. I mean, do fish have any realisation of their existence? Do they even question it? I highly doubt it. Their idea of life is purely based around procreation where they are born, they eat, they survive they procreate and then die and become worm food. Bleak but fuelled with purpose. Chuck Darwin would be so proud.

Oh god….I’m such an emotional bag of dirt. I’m like a child waiting for a happy day to arrive. A troubled child that waits for a day to feel good. You remember that notation of advice that your parents or perhaps a wise person once told you that you should go out and experience the world? Well I have and it’s turned me into an angry and bitter human being. And it gets worse as I age. I secretly find myself envy of other humans that discover love and mentally implore them to find tragedy. That’s horrible. I’m a horrible person. I even have an evil glare like a witch would have crouched over praying that the outcome is devastating. A present day Ursula if you will. “Come hither you little mermaids, you Bambi’s, you Snow Whites. I cast this spell of wickedness upon you and chuck you into the Atlantic Purgatory where you shall cease to find emotion and forever have the psyche equivalent to a fish meheheheheeeeh.”

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