Forsaken
Broken and in despair, the world zips by around looks on and, another face walks by and is forgotten. What is it that crushes the soul so deeply that it cannot regain health? What is it that is healthy? When pain and loneliness are the only bedfellows, where is hope? When it's all been done already, when every angle has been routed out, when every plan has failed, when every hope for success has ended in bitter agony, where can your hope come from.
When the notion of higher power seems to have let you drown, but your own ways had smashed you down to the floor. When you have to believe in God, because to go against his ways is instantly thwarted, but to go with them there is no joy, can you truly believe? Is it survival or choice that you seek this God? When everything you've read can only be true through irrational oversight to the obvious, when chance and chaos hold truer that anything else, to believe means you are damned.
If you desperately wish to just have a normal life to settle down and relax in mediocrity, and even that fails, where can you see hope. When you fail like clockwork, and your best laid plans are always a failure, where do you look, where do you turn, and what is the answer?
You sit in a crowded room or in a small gathering, you look on and see everyone talking; you are talking too, everyone is having fun, well except that you cannot feel the warmth even in your own heart. When everything has become cold and the logic of dead philosophy is the only reality, because it holds fast. What is the answer? Where do you receive comfort? Where is the line in the sand that crosses beyond worth it? When does it really, logically, truthfully, become hopeless? When can you say, enough is enough, and receive the answers posta morte? What if you are too scared? What if you do not want to die because you are afraid of what you will find, but every path you have taken cannot be taken, where your soul cries out and overtakes your will, when you can do nothing but to reject all paths and live the destruction that is destiny?
I am the son of my father; I live in the wake of his destruction and cause even more destruction in my path. The pain the welling agony can only be described the way he has described it: Thanatos, the death instinct; the Greek god of death, whose very presence brings misery and desolation. The farther into life I get the more I realize I am a failed version of him. I cannot even succeed where he has. I'm broken and crushed and my will cannot endure. But what is the scale to even judge success and failure in such a twisted existence?
I cannot stand tall, I cannot walk on my own; yet no one is there to stand with me, no one to assist me in walking. Overwhelming pain and misery surround me and I can do nothing but breathe, and that takes a lot of effort. I try and drown as much as I try and swim; I wish for safety and stability but cannot stand it. They choke my very life away. I am a catch 22 with my own psyche, and can only loose more as the days and weeks go by. With every memory is new pain and suffering, new destruction and agony are around every turn in the road.
I find that my soul and my reason do not meet. No theology and no knowledge stop pain. Understanding the realms of reality and all points of view on the almighty never change the cold feeling at night when you are all alone with no one who can share their soul with you, nor in the day when that dread cannot be shaken, and no level of compromising what it is you need will even get you closer to a little relief.
So again I ask, is there a point when it even becomes logical and rational to end the pain? When does that leap truly make sense? When the only thing that can be promised is more grief and suffering, when hope is a fleeting chance that is mired in the reality of perpetual suffering, is the answer really to keep going? How can that be called hope?
When the notion of higher power seems to have let you drown, but your own ways had smashed you down to the floor. When you have to believe in God, because to go against his ways is instantly thwarted, but to go with them there is no joy, can you truly believe? Is it survival or choice that you seek this God? When everything you've read can only be true through irrational oversight to the obvious, when chance and chaos hold truer that anything else, to believe means you are damned.
If you desperately wish to just have a normal life to settle down and relax in mediocrity, and even that fails, where can you see hope. When you fail like clockwork, and your best laid plans are always a failure, where do you look, where do you turn, and what is the answer?
You sit in a crowded room or in a small gathering, you look on and see everyone talking; you are talking too, everyone is having fun, well except that you cannot feel the warmth even in your own heart. When everything has become cold and the logic of dead philosophy is the only reality, because it holds fast. What is the answer? Where do you receive comfort? Where is the line in the sand that crosses beyond worth it? When does it really, logically, truthfully, become hopeless? When can you say, enough is enough, and receive the answers posta morte? What if you are too scared? What if you do not want to die because you are afraid of what you will find, but every path you have taken cannot be taken, where your soul cries out and overtakes your will, when you can do nothing but to reject all paths and live the destruction that is destiny?
I am the son of my father; I live in the wake of his destruction and cause even more destruction in my path. The pain the welling agony can only be described the way he has described it: Thanatos, the death instinct; the Greek god of death, whose very presence brings misery and desolation. The farther into life I get the more I realize I am a failed version of him. I cannot even succeed where he has. I'm broken and crushed and my will cannot endure. But what is the scale to even judge success and failure in such a twisted existence?
I cannot stand tall, I cannot walk on my own; yet no one is there to stand with me, no one to assist me in walking. Overwhelming pain and misery surround me and I can do nothing but breathe, and that takes a lot of effort. I try and drown as much as I try and swim; I wish for safety and stability but cannot stand it. They choke my very life away. I am a catch 22 with my own psyche, and can only loose more as the days and weeks go by. With every memory is new pain and suffering, new destruction and agony are around every turn in the road.
I find that my soul and my reason do not meet. No theology and no knowledge stop pain. Understanding the realms of reality and all points of view on the almighty never change the cold feeling at night when you are all alone with no one who can share their soul with you, nor in the day when that dread cannot be shaken, and no level of compromising what it is you need will even get you closer to a little relief.
So again I ask, is there a point when it even becomes logical and rational to end the pain? When does that leap truly make sense? When the only thing that can be promised is more grief and suffering, when hope is a fleeting chance that is mired in the reality of perpetual suffering, is the answer really to keep going? How can that be called hope?
posted by Zack Dawley at 10:12 PM
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