I don't care anymore if egos are satisfied and the sun never sets - i need a beer, badly - and I wind up on the road to a gunshot victim; it doesn't matter at all, now, how many decent things can peek through the asphalt and spread petals wide, beaming smiles of adoration upon your unwashed feet; nothing is everything today, it was the same yesterday, and now I won't sleep anymore, dream vivid nightmares anymore, now is blackness all day. the News is extraordinary: filled with death and dismemberment, heroism and denials and accusations, there is sex and violence and love and all of it is the play of life and death, in war and peace, love and hate; the same today as it ever was. I won't write it out - the thing in my throat - for all of the gypsy fortunes in the stars to pitter on about, "did you see...?" gasp gasp gasp ... and roll over for the next remembrance ceremony like every new day that Winston awoke in the halls of the Ministry of Love - i won't convert to suburban mediocrity at the reasonable price of my soul - recognizing a new scar, or bald spot ever looking for the changes in his person and only occasionally finding them physical. it's because of the moon that i can't conform to reason or decency or kindness or love: the same as he glimmers in reflection of the sun is the same as my brightness lit by a muse.
1 thought on “Cloudy Thursday”
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To Whom It May Concern,
I am writing to inform you of my continued displeasure and suffering at the knowledge of your existence. You continue to curse this fine earth of ours with ineloquent and obtuse expressions. You lack clarity in the same fashion as a hearty Cow Pie does, as I learned on an outing from my beloved Mother’s home some time ago. You offend all of the known senses and, I’ve no doubt, the majority of the unknown. It is only due to a near total catastrophic failure of my valve that I have not been able to shower your ilk with the Holy Water of His fine house. I can assure you that enduring your sessions of renaissance abomination pose no pleasure for me, and only serve to weaken my already fragile condition. It is with a great dedication to the cause of Mankind that I remind myself of the evil still left in this world, your evil, and so I write this to let you know of the light available to those with a little Geometry and Theology to work with – something you’ve clearly never endeavored to explore. Should you choose not to shun the path of the wicked, I can only wish you as great a suffering of the heart as you impose upon those of us that take our Cues from Fortuna, herself.
Always Yours in Utter Despair at your abomination of life,
Ignatius J. Reilly