Grinding gear

I don’t wanna be at the top of the tower
I don’t wanna live in a tower at all
I just want to find peace in my mind
But that’s just another lie
I’ve been sold, to believe
That I could one day achieve
Peace on earth inside my mind
But there is nothing peaceful
About human kind
Or any other animal
Cause the world is sick and cruel
You won’t catch me saying it’s beautiful
I don’t really want a place in this mechanism
I don’t want to be a grinding gear in this
I don’t want to be mechanical or animal
I don’t want to be in this chain of command
I don’t wanna choose life, choose a fucking widescreen TV
Or a fucking wife with a picket fence
To fence us in suburbia
I don’t wanna give an inch
Fuck it
I don’t even wanna be the grinding gear
With pen to paper, I don’t wanna be here

Dragonfish

Inspired by a story I’ve been working on for a couple of years now, comes the following poetry:

The world is a sheet of hazy blue

but that still won’t keep me from you

oceans wide, oceans apart

where did we depart?

Why, Jessica, are the jitter bugs in you

when you’re having the time of your life

watching me trying to ignite

do you see I’m just a dragonfish

blind, but trying to become light?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Severe sanity

I have a theory, though I must add it’s not a scientific one. But through observation of people, I’ve come to the conclusion that delusion is a fundamental part of the human psyche.
I believe that a small amount of delusion is needed for human functioning, that delusions are indeed survival mechanisms.
A person either has just enough delusion to function and get them through their lives, or his or her delusions take over and prevent functioning. But there is a third type of person, a person who lacks the ability to believe in a delusion, a person who notices almost every contradiction meaning they couldn’t believe if they tried. Their lives become what can only be verbally and in writing expressed as a living hell. It’s a subset of depression. It’s severe sanity.

Sanity to the extremes in a human mind is dangerous. Because with such extreme sanity, your head will be played with, with a constant barrage of contradictions that others seemingly don’t notice. It means you also see that there is no grander meaning to life; you see it for what it is. Because life is everything yet everything in the scheme of things means nothing. There is no grander purpose. We have a biological drive to help us in the here and now and nearer future, but we see that even the here and now don’t really amount to anything with meaning. That the only way meaning can exist is for us to create a meaning, but to create that meaning you need to be able to function like a human being who doesn’t suffer from severe sanity. You need a delusion. A positive delusion. And where can a severely sane person require a delusion, once they’re aware that everything humans believe to keep themselves going, to give them meaning is a delusion?

I don’t know. Where can we go, with all our fucks? We have no delusions to pack them into.

And if you think I don’t notice the contradiction of posting a post on a blog for others to read, as if somehow you can help a person like me, or as if my writing means anything I am fully aware while writing this, that this post doesn’t even matter. And that to even write it is stupidity in the face of what i have just said. But thats just another reason it hurts to be me. Because all these repetive days that go on, i carry on all the while knowing the only logical answer.

I hate myself

I disturb me. I’m tired of life and death, I’m tired of me. I’m tired of other people and their baggage, their emotions, their problems, their excuses. I’m tired of what I go through not being worthy of the pain I feel. It makes me feel pathetic, I hate when I see someone with genuine suffering and all I can think is “I have all this pain inside, and my reasons aren’t worthy of the pain I feel. My pain is not worthy yet I feel it because I’m pathetic” I feel like a clown with those endless handkerchiefs, I have endless pain. A deep harrowing hole that can’t be emptied, that can’t be fulfilled. It can’t be either because it’s nothing and it’s everything.

What I really want to do is, cut myself off from the world, allow myself to mourn life and take a painless exit.

 

Life is nothing

I’m tired of life again. Or I’m tired of me. I feel a darkness surround me. Enveloping me. I don’t actively want to die, I just have a sense of hoping I might. It’s not the world is bad and people are bad or other such nonsense. It’s that I’m painfully indifferent to life. I don’t care if the sun is shining, or if something is just ‘wonderful’ I don’t care if it’s shit, or who is evil or who is not evil. I just don’t care because life is just a bleak blanket of useless nothing.

On contrast & depression

If you wish to feel comfortable, you should first seek discomfort.

If at all it could be said that there is a key to life, it is on simple thing: Contrast.

Contrast is the only way we can have good things, so we must endure the bad.

But what is most painful about depression is not the contrast between your worst and best days, it’s the indifference that is torturous. A prolonged indifference that can go on for days, weeks, months and even years. Or rather it is an indifference to the good things, the silver linings, the comforts. A sense of pointlessness overwhelming the senses.

Contrast is like oxygen to a stable ‘happy’ mind. But what if your brain just isn’t responding to that oxygen? What if, for prolonged periods of time the only contrast you have are in the different hues of bleak dreary, blacks and greys?

Yes it’s true that even bouts of depression don’t last forever, but it feels like forever. And they bouts last long past their due.

Be an arsehole

I wish I could be an arsehole like you

not caring what others think

not giving any thought to what you do

but then sometimes I glimpse

that side of you

that maybe isn’t too bad

and then I hate it, because then I can’t remember

if I’m meant to feel sorry for you, or pissed off

and you’ve already taken too much sympathy from me

being angry at you feels better

because I can’t take the sorrow of it on my shoulders

so go and be an arsehole

so I can stop caring too.

The boy who wouldn’t be moved

The horizon calls it the end
Of an era
What will the clouds say?
Cause inside my head they’re still grey
Can’t believe it’s come to this day
I tried to be the boy that couldn’t be moved
Now you’ve cut the strings
And I’ve been let loose
Oh god, now it’s all mine to choose
But I’m all alone
Wishing I could talk to you

They say go forth and don’t look back
But inside I’m still the boy
Who wouldn’t be moved

©Silverbackgorillapoetry 2016 August