Every morning it’s a heavy wake,
Things to do,
Things to say,
Finally adding up to nothing
Existentialism sleeps by my side wrapped in it’s velvet skin
Breathes in my mouth
And empties my lungs
But I gasp
Gasp for that mad little inspiration
To live that day,
To get through that day,
Take another step that day,
Isn’t it cruel- to live?
Isn’t it pointless- to be happy?
Awards, memories, legacy- to what end?
Aren’t they nothing but a façade?
Existence. Period.
Funnily enough isn’t made up of a period but ellipses…
Dot dot dot
Hurt, anger, sadness –to what end?
Our lives are just 1000x slower versions of
a fish out on the shore,
Liking the new sensations,
new touches,
new smells,
unknowingly struggling underneath,
But sadly unlike the fish,
We do not know where our ocean lies.
If we could just crawl back into our mothers’ wombs
And then our mothers’ into their mothers’
And So on and so on
Till nothing of us exists anymore
Where existence itself doesn’t exist.
And I’ll be, but a single speck of dust
floating…
floating…
floating…
