An ache so strong that it feels like it will never end.
It pierces me to the quick. Breathless.
After all this time it hasn't eased.
"Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery" Bob sings.
Can I?
Copyright Steven Clark 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Bloodletting
Summer of 1991.
You, topless, smoking a joint.
Your lips curl up in a smile, beckoning me.
In the Darkening Of The Light we join.
Copyright Steven Clark 2012
You, topless, smoking a joint.
Your lips curl up in a smile, beckoning me.
In the Darkening Of The Light we join.
Copyright Steven Clark 2012
Falling
Falling through the ether, light and sound filtering through me like smoke
Thoughts are here too, they crash against me
Sometimes holding me up like a buoy
Sometimes pulling me under like crashing waves.
Reason and purpose taunt me but are out of reach,
slipping through my fingers like water through a sieve
I twist and turn in the current
undulating like a dancer to music
Sometimes going with the flow,
Sometimes fighting every movement.
I need something solid to grasp.
Something to anchor me in the swaying movement that is my mind.
You reach in and take my hand,
knowing you could be pulled in, too.
"Rearranging the deck chairs, are we?" you say.
"I have to try," I say back.
Copyright Steven Clark 2012
Thoughts are here too, they crash against me
Sometimes holding me up like a buoy
Sometimes pulling me under like crashing waves.
Reason and purpose taunt me but are out of reach,
slipping through my fingers like water through a sieve
I twist and turn in the current
undulating like a dancer to music
Sometimes going with the flow,
Sometimes fighting every movement.
I need something solid to grasp.
Something to anchor me in the swaying movement that is my mind.
You reach in and take my hand,
knowing you could be pulled in, too.
"Rearranging the deck chairs, are we?" you say.
"I have to try," I say back.
Copyright Steven Clark 2012
Monday, April 16, 2012
Pointless
What is the fucking point of anything?
We're all going to die someday, and until then all we have to do is muddle through this pointless existence as painlessly as possible.
Which, as each day goes by, seems more impossible to do.
Don't give me fucking platitudes about how I could "give so much back" and "help others." So what? So what if I might help others? Help them to what? Live? Why would anyone want to live in this hell hole? There is nothing but pain, and despair, and death. No minute points of light or joy can impede that fact. No religion can "save us" from it.
We're all going to die someday, and until then all we have to do is muddle through this pointless existence as painlessly as possible.
Which, as each day goes by, seems more impossible to do.
Don't give me fucking platitudes about how I could "give so much back" and "help others." So what? So what if I might help others? Help them to what? Live? Why would anyone want to live in this hell hole? There is nothing but pain, and despair, and death. No minute points of light or joy can impede that fact. No religion can "save us" from it.
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