Sometimes, I do not wish to be so energetic
it’s a flavour I do not think can understandably keep up with the wide rooms of the world that prefer their camphor and marijuana and cannabis — the world that prefers its weight of gold to be a
perfect pitch of somnambulism.
I am a rockety, rocking chair that is unable to seize the day
because I am over a cliff that has transposed itself into a life
the pendulous cliff with its vertiginous gums and precipitous skin
has rubbed me raw as a cold shower where water droplets become teeth — I have invested in energy, but was told to conserve for the sake of society which nimbly used bastardized fuel but kept my own
into fossils — I am calcified in living and mating with boredom. ..
…now boredom is a word that is quite crude and raw and primordial evi; lapses into tongues and calamity, into divides
into savage topographies; its nuanced with a nothingness that
has nullified the potency of seeds. It is the cocktail of grievances
yet it is consumed at happy hours. Only a miracle embedded in consciousness can seemingly know its severance. Yet deliverance
is a scary thing for many. Once you are exposed to the boredom disease its syphilis kills the joy in you.
I want to be happy
yet I am told happiness means excursions
and if all of us hate that
told to be safe and treat the home as your favourite mauseoleum
then happiness is an energy feels unhappy to be had.▬
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