one of those days, a cauldron of exhaustion and incendiary, flammable, dangerous, overwhelmed and at the same time don’t care, resigned but about to shatter in a most dramatic, or melodramatic way… an unseemly, unsightly tension…… I should stick to writing haiku, constrained by syllables and convention… not in the way that twitter constrains, or strangles and suffocates in a forum for the frivolous to casually peddle knee-jerk prejudice and scattershot ephemera… see that jigsaw, the one on the floor in pieces, that’s my head…. angry, edgy, jumpy, impatient… what am I doing… here… making friends out of pixels, pixies, tiny little bits of fun with their peek-a-boo nature… attention-deficit junkies…… am I reading too much news, hearing too much news, knowing too much, can you know too much, isn’t knowledge a good thing, knowledge is power they say and yet so many in power seem to know so little and be running on tiny emotions and small-minded dogmatism… what am I doing wrong?…… perhaps nasty is the new black, be outrageous and suddenly you everyone’s bff…… I am my own worst enemy, said so casually… am I?… they do say “keep you friends close and your enemies closer still” but did they mean quite this intimately…… feels like atrophy…. rushed, pushed, squashed, tiny spaces, hung, drawn and quartered, hung out to dry, hanging on a nail… what of my entrails, what do they tell you, divine me something divine, anything even a lie as long as I believe it… but I won’t, cynical you see, not sure if I’m made that way or become so, nature/ nurture blah-blah-blah, don’t believe anything much, always one eye on the punch-line, waiting for it to stab me with its pencil in the eye… daren’t say anything as I know it’ll be the wrong thing, taken the wrong way, in the wrong tone, wrong-headed, wrong-minded… is there a difference?… when there’s nowhere to go where do you go?… inertia… motionlessly motion-sick … kick the air, punch the wall, shout at the moon (what does the moon care), turn my back only then I’d see what’s behind me, dogging my tracks, compelling me propelling me forward til there’s no more forward left… I can’t believe it’s spring already, another one, that’s how many now?… quite a few… do I want to know how many more there’ll be?… probably not… it’s better to burn out that to fade away…… tap, tap, tap the key make so much more noise than a pen, but the pen holds truths the keyboard can only dream of, or is terrified of, where it can delete, delete at a whim as it likes but the pen, the pen leaves every whisper in its wake, indelible…. how many will still be here by the end of this excuse for a blog, will no doubt find out soon enough I suppose…… draining, waning, flailing… they all rhyme, rhyming’s good, fun, seeing what rubbish is masquerading as clutter today, see, I’m being mindful, with a mind full of nonsense… just because something makes no sense doesn’t make it nonsense…… it’s only worse when I close my eyes, relatively, it’s all relative, that’s the theory, I’m relative to you and you’re relative to me while at the same time not being related at all… unless it’s by six degrees, or however many tangents in a rhomboid… I see what you see but you see it differently…… I’m running out of…
© 2018 robert greig
