Inexplicably Catastrophic

Time goes on,

And comes times like these, you feel you only can explain yourself through imagery,

the direness of your situation is unable to fathom by those unable to see.

From the eagle-point,

You're within a warehouse, shattered glass windows surround You as You attempt to take a glimpse from the slits that is left to see through.

Tied to a chair, rope entangled hopelessly as if earphones left in your pocket, let live through a excruciating experience that is the washing machine.

You are left, alone, in this devastatingly monumental structure.

The noise of a single rodent scurrying in the corner, looking for a hole, for escape.

As dawn breaks, and the slivers of sunlight leak through the windows,

You wince.

The sense of hope that you may escape from this place drowns you, and by doing so, the warehouse grows ever larger.

There is no more corner in sight, leaving only the sound of the rodent guiding the distance to the edge.

The hunger You feel is incapacitating your soul, burning you, from within.

The air grows slowly thinner, as You struggle to breathe. 

You want to be released from this torturous Hell,

And You are left with attempting to struggle through the ropes, or letting Yourself be swallowed whole by this imagination of Yours,

but in the end of the day,

the choice is not left to You if You are to be saved or not.

It is the rodent's.




I wish I had the opportunity to have that spare briefcase of weed to let me start afresh, leave my badge behind to the world, but all I want to do, is burn the Playbook, and stop all the bullshit that I've been through. I wish I could open a cupcake store in Candyland, and make the jolly citizens of that world happy, 

and smile as I see them frolick home, with peace in mind.

I wish I could actually be a hermit, and hide in my shell when the danger approaches.

But life is no fairytale, it is no drama series, it is no comedy.

Life, is but a brief candle, that struts and frets its hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more, it is a tale,

Told by an Idiot,

Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. 

Good night.