declaration of mild, yet entirely unwanted, interest in the everyman-and-woman

[Dandeli]

UUUUUGH, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

.

I've been trudging through this abyss of self-loathing for what feels like a fucking eternity, desperately fucking seeking an exit from this godforsaken carousel of meaninglessness blah-dee-blah in some sick and faintly melancholic but super hardcore execution or whatever. Because let's face it, all our grandiose endeavors are just going to get wiped out by the cold, indifferent hand of death anyway - so what's the fucking point? Reaper-Reaper gonna eat ya', or whatever. Yet, here I am, stumbling upon the stale breadcrumbs of life's supposed significance - what the FUCK?

.

I didn't realize I could stoop any fucking lower, but surprise, surprise, I've hit a new fucking low. Somehow, in the midst of my hardcore philisophical pondering, I've managed to find some pathetic semblance of value in the vapid conversations I've been having with a motley crew of fucking misfits. They actually tolerate the company of a cynical, misanthropic wretch like me – who, by the way, serves as the FUCKING Grim Reaper's personal lackey in the great cosmic game of soul-sorting -- what the FUCK do they want from me? (In some twisted fairy tale, of course.)

.

I mean, sure, there's a sick thrill in getting under people's skin, but lately, I'm starting to feel the withdrawal pangs.. It's like I'm developing this bizarre attachment to these insignificant blips on the map of my boring, stale, inexpensive existence.

.

Like, fuck? I catch myself giving a damn about who likes whom and why. It's like some twisted version of fucking childhood where your next-door neighbours get pissed you don't like butterblooms in early spring, except now we're all just wandering corpses with delusions of purpose. Yet, here I am, caught up in the nonsensical whirlwind of emotions, questioning why the hell I even care. Because, you know, I'm not supposed to give a damn about any of this -- right?

.

Fuck. Think they'd like, let me into the military to unleash this hardcore pent-up darkness swirling inside of my blackened soul?

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[Dandeli]

ugh.

if i could free myself of worldly thought,
if i could detached from the dreams remembered,
long, lavish plans obscured by disillusionment,
then maybe i could escape.
i fear the end, i fear their frowning faces.
i fear what is inevitable; what will come to pass.
if not me, another. if not their tears, another's.
spoiling corpses are an element of nature.
nature's barbarism breeds listless loss,
her dreamers birth nightmare,
nightmare breeds malformed dreams,
it is a plague that hurts man,
it will always hunt man, a forever-stalking beast of night and day,
hidden beneath the rays of summer sun,
the gentle first winter snow,
and the autumn breeze.

tricking myself into thinking i owed the ever-spinning clock?
what a troubling waste.
constellations will be born,
contained worlds reduced to fractals,
and everything will be but a memory.

ugh.

[Dandeli]

Streets echo - those voices blend and weave.

The rhythm of life - what is the truth woven in it's ceaseless beat?

I yearn for solace; I explore these patterns eternally conceived.

I'll yearn to know it; joy, sorrow, bitter and sweet.

 

My eyes have been weary, watching this world unfold.

It's myriad of stories, trials and dreams.

Found within, a tale oft is retold.

One of wars waged, victories, and silent screams.

 

Whispered tales, shared beliefs.

There was the echo of a common thread.

Yet now I learn they beat with meaning.

Found in the cycles that bind us, and the paths we tread.

 

I will learn about you, story of life.

And the fate that we must all face.

Take my hand, sacred church.

And in understanding, may I find solace.
 
The gentle embrace of friendship,
Consider it's blade to have struck true.
A balm for my soul's eternal unrest.
One in which has made my heart thrice beat anew. 

Let it stay,
Let it stick.
Let me keep this memory.

[Dandeli]

I'm really scholarly.

I'm currently researching a plethora of things.

I'm currently learning about the present.

I'm currently learning about the past.

I'm currently learning about what will be.

Mortyl's soft call and the sanctity of the end.

Gala's unending crusade and the upkeep of life's tangibility.

 

Legacy, fate - how one's essence is encompassed in constellations, the stars, and the timeline.
 

Man's innerworkings - his motivations, his greatest regrets, his greatest sins, his darkest thoughts.

 

Man's attachments to family - the meaning woven in bonds both blood-woven and built.
 

I know I'm useless in a grander cycle.

Death will take me, like a cursory breeze.

Every smile I cherish will become decomposition that nourishes the earth.

Yet the beat of life persists.

The world remembers.

And when gone, someone will take this mantle.

Repetition.

Mundanity.

Predictability.

I'll accept it, I suppose.
Sorry, Mother.