Monday, May 10, 2004

A Word of Advice

Call this angst, call this devoid, call this empty, call this hopeless, call this cold-hearted, call this wilted, call this gone, call this depressed, call this cynical, call this anti, call this broken, call this faithless, call this godless, call this without ambition, call this abnormal, call this somber, call this sad, call this naturalistic, call this catatonic, call this paranoid, call this deathly, call this falling, call this crushed, call this loveless, call this unemotioned, call this unfeeling, call this apathetical, call this isolated, call this provincial, call this doubtful, call this sheltered, call this bitter, call this dreamy, call this ignorant, call this shameful, call this contemptual, call this pulped, call this bloodied, call this wounded, call it sore, call it faltered, call it ceaseless, call it unwhole, call it unhealthy, call it a phase, call it a moment, call it a time, call this a lament, call this broken-hearted, call this unusual, call this strange, bizarre, call it odd, call it cracked, call it insane, call it schizoid, call it nihilistic, call it negated, call it abated, negative, call it breathless, caustic, manical, call it unseeing, call it unliving, torturous, bludgeoned, silent, call this hapless, call it selfish, egomancial, hubrant, egotistical, inward, extroverted, losing, helpless, childish, small, call this unworldy, unable, sharded, shot, barred, chained, call this taken, lost, missing, unhitting, abashed, hyperbole, overstatement, hateful, call it trodden, call it caustic, catharsis, unenlightened. Call it any word you well please within that mind of yours you have.

This is the truth. It is the bare-bones skeleton of life. It has holes, going ever on, where its eyes would be. It has no skin upon its form. It has no organs to sustain its life. It has no brain within its empty echoing skull.

It has ribs. It has no heart. It looks like it will fall apart. It has a pelvic bone. It has a spineless spine. It sits in front of all your eyes, and mine, and some pass it by, do not want to see, do not want to know. This skeleton is without the diversions of life, it is without the petty moments in our heads--those rememberancers--those nostalgic hells. One look at this skeleton and you know what it is, and it lodges in your throat, and it grabs what heart you have left. That hasn't been taken by the smiley-open grabbing groping world.

This bare-bones skeleton is what you once will be, and it is what you will see. Eventually. It is that everything good shall do its way, shall die one day, shall pass away; shall cease to have, go gray, wilt to nothing and be gone. Like a rose life seems, but I see the thorns. The beautiful is the superficial outer shell--the skin which holds this fleshly weak, fleshly infirm being. This body is just a machine.

Life is good great and grand, and has much to have had, and has so much to see. But this thing we are is all we'll ever be. And our time here is wasted on the pettier things, on love and what this world's sold us to.

If you look to the stars, and the sky, and you zoom out until the Earth is very far away, you are so small, so little in the picture of things. And one day your survival will end.

So get your jobs, and get yor cash. And get your ladies--grab that lass. And love her like there's nothing left.

So waste your life away for this world. Don't be you, just be what they want you to be. And waste your time in this useless world. See all it's got to offer, see all it's got to hurl.

So grow old and do nothing at all, and find out that after you retire and you've got the time to be who you are that the you who you were died. And find out so soon after your let off this working world that there's nothing left. And look in the mirror and see your face, lined and dying and all over the place. Realize that's not you, never was never will never ever shall.

So go to school and learn the facts. Find out they steal your mind. Find out it's not even about what you want.

I see it all, I see the way it is. You'll struggle think it's all happy all's good. You're just another idiot that's fallen to this world--the way it is. It could be so much more. But you let it be this way, all of you you status quos.

I know I died that night, and I'll never be brought back to life. Once again I know. It is me that died that night, and I have no fight. I have nothing left that is right.

And do you see the truth, or are you blinded by your want for it to be what you want it to be?
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