The Book Of Uncontrolled Decisions
In a house so big its very easy to regret all the good things about life and its gig. I am getting quite a few flashbacks about my collection of cowboys and Indians. I remember they were always ready to embark on any adventure towards an imaginary city called Meridian. But things got stopped in their tracks, and by the look of it to where they were they ain't coming back. Life has taken a big whack and has earth quaked the existence shack. I can feel it as I notice I can only manage to see it from aback. I guess it's pretty difficult to accept I am temporary no longer part of the pack.
In a house so big you could almost dream of having a pet pig. But then again, I gradually realise there is actually nothing eccentric or sexy about wearing a wig. Though I would like to choose one that is pink, I suppose that will probably make people think. There are days I wish I would be able to forget the struggle, sometimes I wonder if it would not just be easier to hit the bottle. Acceptance, repentance so many words without romance, a dialectic full of meanings so cryptic to describe the simple fact that I am very sick
The house is too big and I sometimes find difficult to keep the emotional boat afloat. I am getting very fragile and yet the attacks are getting ever so vile. I am no longer an apache yet there are days I imagine I still possess the ultimate panache. Alas its obvious to everybody that I am melting faster than a chocolate ganache. I am getting by like the shadow of the day doing my best not to throw away the tiny hopes in the nearest ashtray. While hope is elusive, despair is invasive and I wont even mention how unsensitive the clerk was when he asked if my health package was all inclusive. I guess the payments are palliative.
Hope As A Ritual
I would love to but I understand I wont be able to stay in the house so big. Out of fear I sometimes pretend I dance the life jive and give myself an encouraging high five. I have seen him a few times already, wrapped in a dark long coat and always staring at me. The shiny life span hopper is relishing at the thought of switching off the life operator. In reaction to his apparition I attempt to dig deep inside of me and hope for a new life, but like a fierce banker my cells tell me there is no cash left in the dispenser. And if that was not it, in order to put me at ease, well intentioned family members firmly recommend there will probably be no need to renew the lease.
In a house so big it's difficult to accept there has been an intense disease blitzkrieg. I must admit that the defeat has taken its toll, its not nearly as crazy as a depraved fan of rock and roll. Yet you got to know that the winner will take it all including the rawest part of your soul. In those moments I would love to fantasize I could turn to alcohol to treat my head. It would help to make me lie in bed. I could almost pretend that my feelings and anxiety med wont shaft me in zone known as code red. Realistically I am aware I am slowly becoming a ghost, not one of those who has reached the big holy city but one of those who is stationed in an advanced post. It would be almost exotic and epic if it was not so tragic.
The New Normal
I don't even know if I am still in the house so big. I sometimes hear voices made by music than only I can hear lyrics. The new routine is abnormal and its itinerary is disturbingly abysmal. Always this haunted hollow that I can't do nothing against but follow. It would be pure sorrow if I was not distributing buckets full of plastic hellos. Who are they ? Who is this unknown crowd so shallow? I hope he wont be too hurt. I am talking about my cat Kurt.
There is no masquerade when you take part in the final parade. I wonder how you practise a smile with a scale jaw bone when you're meant to spend the rest of your existence alone. The advantage could be that you no longer have to put a joyful facial on. Personally I will be able to stop saying soldiering on. I don't like moaning but Its aching when your love lies crying, when your love's last dying. I have heard so many disturbing lies about resting in peace, will it be cold and should I wear a fleece?
I don't like the scare in your eyes, it always augurs the apparition of dark skies. That said I have far more urgent matter to figure.
I was wondering, with all that new found freedom. Would one not die of boredom ?
People & Stuff
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Written Material Copyright 2018 - Pascal Derrien -