Safely enclosed within the inevitable unfolding
of a sequence of primal moments locked within
triggered by unknown events, I become a victim
to the blackmail of the unconscious
When my world shrinks to a series of routine events
not taking care of anyone needing special guidance,
I fall prey to feelings of redundancy, my mind starts
wandering, heart stops beating normally
All that is left is an empty shell, breathing, converting
energy without accomplishing anything, can’t motivate
myself to play Snakes and Ladders in the office earning
money to continue in the same way
Day after dreary day, sending prayer requests to patrons
of hopelessness and things almost despaired of, seeking
succour in tribulation and desolation, the suffering of
my inability to stay on the treadmill
Without falling into a mental Black Hole where Calvinism
demands I live to serve someone, anyone; as long as I do
not live for myself; bloody hell, there is no-one else, every
one I associate with is independent
This leaves only parasites, should I become host to blood-
suckers as the true antidote to seeking quiet contentment,
what can end this search for meaning; surely there must
be something I may do for myself…
[Primal Scream Moments (2]
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