My heart is thumping. I am sweaty. And nauseatic. Pukish. Rotting in the filth of society. I feel diseased. Infected. Like being disgorged half digested from the unfathomable depths of some giant monster. From the deep to the darkness of light.
The light blinds me. Escape is my only hope. Hoping for darkness, that’s something I haven’t heard before.
What is hope? What is light?
Is it so bad to want to crawl up into a dark dingy alley and long for death?
There is something poetic about the mystery of death.
Our ultimate goal. Mankind’s drug induced, heart rending odyssey of millennia washed away by the waves of nothingness.
Is nothingness desirable? Do you want it? Would you want it?
If God appears before you in all his angelic glory and gives you darkness while you desired heaven, would you take it?
I am still running. My heart’s still thumping. And I am rotting away in the waste of hope.
Who am I?
What do I want?
How much can I adjust?
Life is so infinitesimally small and we wither away in a never ending series of adjusting, and not adjusting. Waste away time in thinking about not thinking.
Run, baby. Run.
I promise you the world. Money. Fame. Fortune.
Where is the fame?
Fortune?? I doubt it.
Why run. Even if I wanted to, I would run where I want. Into the forest and into the ocean. I don’t want to run because you want me to.
Does no one hear the distilled voice of mankind crying out through the ages? Have we become so numb that we look at our never ending futile activities with blind eyes?
“O lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud;
I fall upon the thorns of life, I bleed.”
Does no one feel the vein of emptiness running through our hearts? You know it is out there, you feel it. But you can never quite figure out what it is.
I am tired of this incessant running, of mind numbing work. The feeling of getting stuck in the cogs of life. Where is the freedom? I shout, and the silence shouts back.
Like a bloodhound, I am in fast pursuit.
In pursuit of madness.