Science tells us, time and space are not the thing
that makes us dependent, but
we make them up, just to
As not being depending on any or to any
time and space keeps drifting,
merging and vortexing
with you nowhere.
Even your cereblar synopses warp,
plunging you in sharp dark,
throwing in deep blaze
your dizzy image.
Childhood feelings, romance,
pain of bruises, torments
keep mashing up
In such an end, you if you,
or rather your shadow
drift in nowhere
What else reason brought us upon Earth than facts that
are so trivial, they are even barely believable;
we are none more than the result of animals’ breeding,
doing the same life-essential routines of eating-excreting – and
here, some of our smart arse would say
that we are SENT down to this place by reason that
is we are JUST better than all other livings even if
the facts don’t support this answer; firstly because there was no
question to be answered so arrogantly.
And the above fact that we, humans, defend so desperately our supremacy proves that
we are in deed just a scavenged mixture of nature that
are here just as any other being; temporarily
blessed by the moment and cursed by the next
in what we fall from the circling giant wheel of life; and
this is what we can call a fact
that is standing above beliefs and can start a discussion on what
we are doing here now in these moments that
happen, now, but in the next round they cease as we cease
to know the false facts that kept us believing in
the answer without question why we are here now.
Yes, this isn’t easy to face that there’s no meaning
in the job we take, our education or
the family we were living for;
immense reasons “keeping us alive” are just parts of this
confusion that hides the fact that we are here for
one reason that is to live and die; one
thing is sure above all the false-certitude that Death
alone is the only common variable between us that
is unavoidable, doubtless, assured and
clear as it is.
We are dying together from the first moment we
are to face this glance of time of living, or rather
waiting for reasons to be here;
for we never can know why we are here, but
Godot is coming, and we are either willing or not, but we are waiting it
(“What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in the immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come –” Samuel Beckett – Waiting for Godot)
The destiny – whether one’s ready to
die on it or die for it –
has never been else than a given decision,
been our ever nature to screen it,
cast it, and act on it until we own our last deadend reality.
(The die has been cast. – Julius Caesar)
Hell will be one of the most well-known concepts ever:
is there anybody who needs to tell
empty feelings, pains and people who feed on each other,
and is there anybody to tell we are living hell;
all vain trials, hardships and sacrifices just to live happier –
the so-called gent are like the mademoiselle,
devils on Earth by sole purpose to hurt in- and exterior;
are not the lands better without us to dwell,
here, it is better to say, not us, but there are devils from hell.
(Hell is empty and all the devils are here – William Shakespeare)
Social butterfly: A person who jumps from one social group to another, somewhat being accepted in all of them, but not really belonging to any of them without having deep connections with any.
So, here I am again; leaving a life and entering another.
Often, I cut socializing as if I don’t even bother
Cause it is and it causes a great pain to me and even other;
I am here today, then nowhere tomorrow
As if my whole existence were a repeating funeral
Like a careless butterfly flying from flower to flower.
Before I would take the blame on this horrible misbehavior,
Understand that I am not doing it as volunteer;
To see the truth that I’m also a victim here
Take my shoes and listen how I feel:
Emptiness and loneliness are my biggest fear –
Right away I get a life, I feel empty as if not being there,
From a minute to another I feel myself lonely,
Leaving a life and trying another that homes me.
You’d understand it if I demonstrated, but I really need to leave now, good bye homie!
With condolences for the times I stole from thee,
I’m really not a thief, but I felt so empty and lonely;
To borrow a life, none of you’d have bestowed me.
Should I look for meaning in life if I know
I am following my own product?
Kill or beget; we are all following a flow –
Myself, I am barely able to deduct
Or anticipate the so-called reality I undergo.
Have I missed an important act?
A purpose I should have known a long ago?
Cup all of my years in your hands as a fact
Of that I was living, and throw ’em with a blow;
Coffee and cigarettes will distract me while you’re doing so.
(Should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee? – Albert Camus)