All My Storms to Swallow

5.27.10



It's hard to look out into the future and see anything aside from mind-numbing boredom, death defying misery, and the usual tired satisfactions of 'life' entailing such things as screaming children, mega price cuts at the supermarket, and other cliche things that only bring deep sadness and indifference to my eyes.

As the years continue to pass, despite how few may have passed, the hopelessness continues to rise, the disparity changing from a puddle to an unnavigable sea, and then back again, vice versa. Sometimes I'm eight-years-old and oblivious to life itself, other times I'm tired, old... seasick.

All the people I know are insane, mad, they're all seemingly from other planets. They speak in a vague language to me that resembles English, they sometimes smile. I ask myself over and over; Who are these people? Who am I? What in the fucking hell is going on? Is this what life is like?

If we cease to believe in gravity do we float away? Definitely not.

All my storms to swallow. the existence trap. xxi.