Some days
you want to see the end of
as quickly as possible.
Some days
you want to have forever.
Here I’m stretched
in the middle of feelings.

The hope of this creeping working day
to be forgotten
before it even started.
The fear of losing precious elements
of magnificent days that race by
with irrepressible force.
Where it seems as if
we get no chance to bloom.
Where we want more of the same
instead of less of the same.

I want ways to reverse this.
I pretend to be on the beach
while I’m behind my desk.
I feign relaxation
while my head spins mad
with worry.

But that ain’t new.

Every time I think
I’m done writing.
That I’ve said it all
and I’ll just repeat myself
new things happen
to feed me.
Not with knowledge though,
because that would silence me
I believe.

I’ll stay as far away as I can
from the quest for knowledge.
For now.
Once in a while
or rather often really
I’ll enjoy the beauty of my shallowness.

I plan on lavishing myself
with a worse version of me.
Just for tonight.

There was a man.
And he was worthless.
Then
he was not even that
anymore.

He had vanished
and he didn’t know it then.
Every other week he tried
to make it.
He worked his very best
to stand out
like he used to.
Before.

The people around him
didn’t even mock him.
He was invisible even though
they shook his hand
and took his money.
They simply refused to take
notice.

So after a while
he was sure he grasped it.
He believed that he was
not passé or forgotten.
He had transcended to another dimension.
He could get away
with anything.

His posture changed.
His voice changed.
And while he started doing
all those things invisible people do,
people started seeing him again.

At long last
it was something
worth looking at.

Being confident
will get us nowhere
but to those places
we would prefer to avoid
if we knew any better.
Which we don’t.

I feel conspired upon.
Someone is dumbing us all down
and they have guised it as
free will.
Executing your right to freedom.
It’s nothing new.
But this is:
“no more of that shit please”.

Accusing others of expecting
more and more
is not the same as the silent bugs
that tiptoe into you as
you yourself expect more
and more
from what transpires around you.
The ideal becomes the standard.
The norms rocket.
I, for one,
can not keep up anymore.

Something is tugging on my mind.
Showing me,
in things that are far bigger than words,
that there is a broader spectrum on the rise.
An expansion of consciousness.
A disclosure.

And all I can do,
except to wait for it,
is regress further into harmony,
which will make me more impressionable
once it arrives.

It will not be a reward.
It will be a present.

I think time is controlled by the mind.
It flexes and stretches
all over the place.
When things feel great
they last no longer than seconds
and when they hurt like hell
it seems like they are borne
and nearby
forever.

We can learn to manage this process
as an actual skill
Though it will be more of an unlearning.
We can make the wonderful things
last longer than forever,
even if they have lasted only seconds.
Years of anguish could become
as fleeting as a thought.
This will make one
happier.
Loads happier.

The art will reside in no longer accepting
the signals of this reality.
The physical evidence that tries to tell you
what’s what
from a human point of view.
Simply ignore it.
Nothing is actually confirmed.
No power of attestation
is invested in anyone.

Believe none other
than who you know to be inside,
for they have no real faith in you.
And do not fail to consider
everything imaginable.

Hence,
you will pass well through time.
Without all these hurts.

The depression is hitting with full force
now.
Short days and long hours
and no play-time.
I can’t believe the ongoing nagging and chatter
in every room I step into.
I’m pulling my hair out
just to feel something other than the argumentations
of progression I have been raising.
My survival mode is so blatantly pathetic
that I can only hate myself for it.
Once more, I am a farce,
making all the wrong choices,
seeking all the wrong and easy answers
with all the wrong people.
It is all in me.
Nowhere else.
Empathy and compassion and
my helping hands
have become raping excuses.
Deviant roads,
stray freedoms
and gore.

Just gore.

Too many questions and assignments
are forwarded to land on my lap.
I try to keep this hot, hot head a lot cooler,
thinking about nothing and focussing
on the task at hand.

But why?
This is not for the greater good,
or for the needy,
or for the harmony of my heart,
or for the ancient rites.
This is only for the devil at the wheel,
pouring us into the ripping gears
like oil.

We are nothing more than oil.

There is no more body
and no more soul in the execution of these tasks.
While I have already learned
these lessons of huge import
many times.
They never change.
I warn others not to slide into the wax
but I dive in, head first,
year after year.

This office room
is the same as the one
I hated 10 years ago.

They did a nasty job on us.
Giving us that final push
into the irreversible.

Now,
I’m too old to hate
wholeheartedly.