The Consolation

Know that my feet are still kicking
and if you look hard enough
you might see my tired eyes
devouring frantically while they stay
above this surface below which lies
all I never wished to be accustomed to

I do return each night – kicking,
breaking through for a little while,
trying to not recognize the reluctance
that questions the pretense
of a self-regulated time bound struggle

I was told that I am
ill-prepared for the privilege of living,
always too afraid and uncertain,
forever invested in trivial concerns

Yet it is the recognition of these inclinations,
which make sense only in light of immortality,
that pushes me to prolong this experiment

Is there any consolation in defying ignorance,
only to acquire the knowledge of certain failure?

I have a feeling we’ll discover there is

The Dialogue

How rampantly I seem to be progressing!
There are questions to be answered
and I am now part of the rhetoric
that can answer them.
Imagine that!

I don’t need you to remind me
of what I used to say
or belittle even,
as if memory was the problem
or in any way the solution.

But let’s not talk about solutions.

Lies, I have discovered, only need consistency
and positive reinforcements,
well abetted by the doubts that I
am not ready to give the requisite time to
or garner enough courage to face.

Again, with your admonishments – stop!
and realize that you are simply a weak manifestation
of a dwindling urge that is too sporadic to matter;
a dull self appeasing distraction
that is too dependent on its own failure.

So isn’t it better if I focus towards where I am going?
Even if I still need your medium to convince myself,
which if nothing else does remind me
how comfortable I seem with contradictions
and how well aware of my own hypocrisy.

Yesterday’s Ephiphany

If only I were still a bystander
and mock those deeply entrenched
in the purportedly essential games
of daily life

Instead I use these feeble
and intermittent attempts
to find a certain solace behind
the thin veil of delusion

I couldn’t possibly be scraping at the bottom;
That’s a cowardly thought and
a surrender to the pervasive lethargy
that is so easily blamed on the times

If nothing else, I realize that
the old adage about work over ability
holds well in an attention deficit world
even if only till I choose to remember it

Prose

It was a holiday so I woke up on time
and before long I was staring at the black line
blinking in a sea of recycled text

The noise wasn’t deafening that day
and for a while the resulting delight
kept me unproductively occupied

It is never supposed to be pretty,
akin to pushing against a grind stone,
not for those of intermittent intent

Here, however, the freedom is terrifying
and the prerequisites accompanying the plunge
temptingly simple but deceptively evasive

What does one say to one
who doesn’t have the time for that
and wrongly construes their courage for this?

Some Realizations

Here is the visible misfortune of a friend
and the degree of my own indifference
surprises me.

It isn’t the same when,
far removed from my presence,
fanatics kill and burn strangers.

This elicits an immediate reaction
….but not for the stranger,
so perhaps it is the same.

Do I hate bad ideas more
than I love good people?
Is that a natural product of our times?

Or perhaps this is a grotesque evasion
of a problem that may not be singular to me
but is more intrinsic than I’d like to admit.