Again the winds grow cold, again night falls fast. The window open, the lights left off, the day does like it’s going to do. There’s no one loved, there’s no one true. The proselytizing and the platitudes play on, the kingdom of heaven and all these Candide knock offs. You can’t throw a stone without hitting some idiot who knows the secrets of the cosmos. It’s a word problem, language another sort of plumage, tail feathers shaken to impress or misdirect. We can’t help but lie. We set out to spread deceit so long ago, everything is destiny now. Ask no questions, the lying won’t even miss a step.
I keep it up, though no one asked me too. I keep it up even though I can’t get it up anymore. Empty words for every empty page. Empty actions from an empty husk, biding time until counted out. Holding down this fort of dementia and despair where every offer of assistance is yet another bag of wind. All the reasons not to are for everyone else’s benefit. I’m living all the reasons I should be dead and gone.
There’s a first time for everything. There’s bound to be a last, even if it seems like it’s taking forever. Fragile nazis run the streets with impunity, murdering children and getting medals. Rich fuckers make the earth their shithole while sucking Mammon’s cock. People have confused costumes with character, ever sold a bill of goods wrapped in flags and founders and other grist for the grifters. I know I’m worthless because I’m still here emptying piss buckets when I ought to be emptying magazines. I know I’m a coward because I’m still around to write this shit. 54 years on this earth as me are about 55 too many.
