Prose and musing by Sam I am.
Writer of cyberpunk, dystopian fiction, and nonfiction. Plus whatever drives me at the time.
The problem with life is that it can be fucking hard
and shit at times
Yes, it can be wonderful and beautiful too, but mostly, a lot at least, if I am not being dramatic, is shit.
you know that as much, don’t you?
they want us to deny it, capitalist,
They want us to deny truth, and gloss over semi-precious moments of closure.
Sentimental bullCrap for a disjointed generation.
Self-abuse becomes mandatory.
It’s the only thing to look forward to.
In this shit.
we can dress over it for you if you would prefer.
we wouldn’t want reality getting in the way of work.
Not with everything that’s at stake.
So, I slip into despair-wrapped hysteria and watch it fall apart.
what was it for?
All for nothing.
that’s how it gets us. In the end,
deny and numb it all we want. But it’s there.
we will face it, you’ll face yours
and I, mine.
what will we think of now?
Of these days
Will we wonder?
Will we remember reality
haunting us each day.
As it starts to unfold.
This world of shit.
Say what you like about Christ.
They really don’t care.
Me either.
At least that is what I tell you.
But for all my meditating Buddhist bullshit, I am angry.
And no one cares.
All too distracted.
By their great lie.
at their pleasure.
Be warned, it will ensnare you. It will suck your humanity dry.
But don’t beat yourself up.
It can’t be elixir all the time, can it?
These words don’t belong in my mouth.
As I am not educated. Hardly.
And it shows.
You can take meaning out of anything, but that doesn’t mean meaning has anything. Not anymore. Not that it ever did. These days.
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Photo by Scott Webb:
