clinging to the wreckage

I have, understandably, created a reputation for being unhappy... or, in truth, for bordering on the absolute miserable. This is not actually true. I’m not a bouncy and bubbly individual but this does not mean I am entirely morose. In a wide life/self sense I am very happy. Through art, literature and music I find tremendous joy and happiness. However, there is not one minute of any day that I am able to forget the terrible injustices of life such as the exploitation and abuse of people and animals along with all other forms of terrible suffering and sorrow for whatever reasons they may arise (starvation, neglect, etc). When I see people bouncing around in tremendous joy and excitement, they remind me even more of the suffering going on elsewhere. Apart from that, I am just breezy.

I awoke and reached to my right where you used to lie. The bed was empty, of course, but I was reminded of the time you awoke and smiled. You told me the smile arrived when you realised where you were and that was one of the greatest compliments I have known. It’s sick, but I still cannot move on, you are the only one. And yet, I am not waiting for you... I don’t long for you... I know that very idea is rife with problems and that we would probably collapse. In the mean time there is this page and this keyboard and I write on as it is my only true passion. I write on in the repeated attempt to express what it is that I feel and think and when that day finally arrives I may stop. For now there is too much injustice in life. I see the lazy being rewarded... I see the ignorant in power... I see people judging each other and I wonder how it is that we even managed to build a civilisation. I don’t know the answers but I do know that lately I am more and more tempted to simply walk away f

When I read, hear and see the general public’s reaction to events such as the recent London riots it makes me realise that the majority of people have never read any meaningful books or listened to any thought provoking music, they have never challenged anything in their lives or had a subversive thought. All they know is basic, standard, middle-class convention. They’ve never heard of people demonstrating their disgust. They have never imagined that there could be some form of underground sub-culture, some subversive groups, some diversity to society. To them, everything is a romantic comedy in which the main character pursues their dream career and dream lover. They never realised that people could be abused and mis-used and cheated. They never realised that animals were treated like waste. They don’t know there are people who can’t afford food and clothes and homes and education. They cannot contemplate the idea of having no future, no past, no hope, no dreams. When they see weal

I walk down the street and see a beautiful young woman walking with her mother and her son just ahead of me. Noticing that the boy is saying hello to everyone and anyone he sees I instantly stop walking. Turning to my left I take a diversion through a tiny wooded area so that I can bypass the family and come out ahead of them. I see others walking by, chest out in pride, no thought, saying hello and displaying their mating/paternal characteristics to the young woman. I make it out ahead of them and I have escaped an awkward meeting in the street. I rapidly walk down the path to my front door. By the time the three generations of family pass by my window I am drinking a beer and watching them go by... the screams of the young boy drowned out by the music I have playing inside. I’m safe and alone.

So much beauty, so much life passes us by. So many people with whom links could be made live so far away, never to be met. I see a video of a friend in another country and almost instantly fall in love with her friend. But she is too far away, I am too old and they are too popular. It’s odd; when I was in my early twenties it wasn’t cool to be a nerd. Now there is nothing that can make one more popular than being a nerd. Punks and skaters were the rejects and now they are the leaders of the social community.  Instead, I feel that the best times have passed. I am left alone to create and to enjoy that which has been created by others. But physical and emotional love is a past endeavour reserved for the young and the beautiful... or the rich. I toy with ideas of death and I am beaten down by those who don’t think... they merely spout out what they are taught from birth; that we must be positive and appreciate our lives and cling to them. They don’t ever ask why. They don’t dare oppos

For the time being, the darkness has lightened and the mists have lifted to allow me some breathing time. Alcohol intake has decreased and there has even been a little bit of exercise. I’m still traumatised by the abuse of pigs by certain sectors of the ‘food industry’ that I witnessed in a news article and by the attack on a musician for arguing that society only supports the ideas and stories it is fed by the popular media. I still believe that humanity is at a crisis point – it is more dangerous to be alive now than at any other time because people are so distracted by their phones and by the internet that car crashes are on the rise as well as negligent work. It wouldn’t surprise me if I called the police to report that I was being attacked in my home only to discover that I was put on hold so that the officer could finish their online game. Nevertheless, for what it is worth, I have found some form of personal relief from the high-pitched suffering that I often tend to experience.

All is silent and still. Nothing fills the room but the mists of death as they flow slowly through the dark air and sniff out the potential for untimely demise. There doesn’t seem to be much reason. There doesn’t appear to be much hope. A black nihilism takes over and all positivity is obliterated. Speaking to you… seeing your pictures… thinking about you… just makes it worse. There are so many things that I have to hide. I hide who I’ve been seeing in secret. I hide the things that people say to me… the things they say they want to do. People go on in hope, oblivious to the nature of mankind. People are oblivious to the doom present in most aspects of life, particularly those such as marriage. The ashes of marriage blow away in the mild breeze of disgust, they are lost and forgotten. People cling to tradition but it is dead. Their god is dead. Their holy matrimony is dead. The stable family is dead. Modern life is only for the beautiful and young.