A Bygone Era
I fear this is the end… a long dragged out scene.
Returning to this monotony.
I see the same patterns every day.
The long arduous road.
It seems so fucking opaque.
So goddamn trivial.
Is this what they call life?
I’ve had enough then, let me drown in it.
Let me feel the blade as I quake.
The only sensation that seems… real.
And I hope for a day of tomorrow.
A day that never comes.
When I can escape this circle.
A circle of self violence, decay and stagnation.
I fell like I’d never find fulfillment.
To always be the wanderer on the same path.
Going in circles and circles and circles.
More despair, more repetition, until I vomit.
And they say I live the good life, I hate to see whats the bad.
For I can barely stand this one, how do they do it?
How do they cope.
My violence is against the world, my self hatred is long gone.
Poof away, and its not the self pitying, its not the loss of anything.
Its the dimmer of hope, I fear the great monotony.
I fear it with all my heart.
I fear ending this poem because that would mean death.
Death of what?
Perhaps a momentary glimmer to the great beyond.
Something thats pure, alive and honest.
Something that expresses and sums up the consciousness of humanity.
I wont weep for myself, for I’m not sad.
Just a tired old soul, in the twilight of my youth.
Too tired to push on, too stubborn to die.
But somewhere deep within it all, I think, hope and feel…
That there must be something more than this.
There must be a way out of this rut, anything and I don’t want to go back.
To the old habits of yesterday.
The weed, and the violence, and the self destructiveness.
They’ve all flown before me.
They’ve become tiny fissures in a scarred mind.
Holding on to the past in some kind of post apocalyptic landscape.
If you’re out there, if you’re listening to this.
I hope this poem will give you some salvation.
I hope it will remind you of what you have.
Because my best years have come and gone before me.
And I didn’t even realize it.
Now the great burden of monotony awaits me.
More circles, more madness, more… nothing.
Continuously unfolding before me.
Like an endless maze, a cavern.
Where the sky never penetrates.
Where the oceans never reach.
Some unending thing, I can’t put into words.
How did everything get so messed up.
I’m screaming but I don’t feel anything.
I am hollow. Like the fissures.
I’m withered like the trees of winter.
Passing from some bygone era.
I want to weep.
For the things that I’ve yet to experience.
To the love I’m bound to find.
Yet there is no solace.
No catharsis here.
Just a blank page, and some words.
And to be honest, that fills me with something.
Its the one reason I’m here.
The one reason I’m alive.
The thing that keeps me going.
The pleasures of my post apocalyptic madhouse that I call my mind.
Tales of wonder from a bygone era.