... and you wondered why the "mundane world" is my nemesis?
Man ... the poem below was about stuff from yesterday but it sure as hell looks predictive for today. Some times I wonder how the hell I keep going. The Wife is always on my ass about how my moods "aren't anything that everybody else deals with" ... well, if they ARE what everybody else deals with, why aren't there rivers of blood in the streets and violence and chaos on every corner? This is what I've never "gotten" ... when I was a kid my shrink would say "just assume that everybody else feels pretty much the same way you do" ... which was bullshit since 99.95% of the race is (in Gurdjieff's terms) "asleep" and the fact that for most of my life I had only two emotional settings, depression and rage ... it was hard adjusting to the fact that most folks were working with far duller palettes, if with a few more hues. Why do "normal people" assume that one's rage, anguish, obsession, fear, hatred, and grief are fleeting little surface ripples on top of the Big Mundane Sleep? Are my emotional controls "set to 11" or am I just awake to actually feel them? What a nightmare ... what an unholy fucking NIGHTMARE!
Enjoy the poem, though ...
SILENCING THE HEART
one thing goes wrong by miscalculation and then the whole begins to collapse and everything becomes hostile all systems fail all promise of the day becomes accursed
webs of disaster catching all we spin out of orbit fail to align nothing remains of what had been nothing preserves the good through this fire
the darker nightmares erupt within all the evils of the mundane world lie in wait biding their time for when we might be happy to crush us into shit
I am nauseated by this world I can not function in its bounds there is no safety nor freedom for me within this horrid zone no way to leave but die
I would rather kill the myriad beasts than walk into the dark but in suicide I'd still one heart and I doubt I've strength untapped in me to silence any more