it's a bird!
it's a plane!
it's...apathy in action!
day one of the exile, and i feel lousy. we'll see if it clears...i picked my prescription up from the pharmacy today, maybe taking my meds is a good idea. mom's being demanding as hell, and i'm just lonely. friends are hurting, people fail to see points, and i thought maybe isolation would help. it's seeming not to. but it could be just 'cause i'm fiddling with a fscking mixed state, and having nowhere to channel my anger, it all boils over on myself.
o/~ there is a man, asking a question/ is this really the end of the world? o/~
once i was depressed. in that depression, i got on a bus and found myself at the berkeley marina, and a long pier extending out into the bay. i walked down that pier to the end, where it was only me and the seagulls, and as i stood there and looked, standing on the edge of my world, nothing but water surrounding me...i was far enough out that i couldn't hear the people sounds, and i imagned myself standing on that pier, and being the last man left alive. And for a brief moment, I was happy.
what would it be like to be the only survivor of some tragic event, to only have seagulls to talk to? would it be better or worse than this thing i call my life? it's moments like this when you feel so horribly trapped, and there's no way out. your screams go unheard.
apathy in action.
o/~ seagull, you must have known for a long time/ the shape of things to come/ now you fly through the sky never asking why/ and you fly all around, 'till somebody shoots you down. o/~
i'd like to have wings. to get somewhere else but here. somewhere else but me. somewhere where i don't have to feel pain and hurt, and i can see the love through the bad. it's times like this you want to scream out, "why me, god, why now?" but...there is no god. Or if there is, he's a distant and uncaring one.
'cause if he is here, why has this year been so utterly miserable? why does he want us to suffer and feel pain?
and if i was able to fly away, i'd get shot down again. the demons of 2k1 are good shots, and the angels are apathetic.
Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?
Because I do not hope to know again
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again