Glorious would seem to be the most appropriate adjective to affix to our current climate. Prominent sunshine, gentle birdsong, that bizarrely unquantifiable smell which portends Spring’s unequivocal arrival and Summer’s inevitable embrace. Wholesome.

I like time. Time is an unabashed and notorious asshole. Criminally short while agonizingly long it exists in this absurd temporal paradigm where it’s interpreted differently by every single person at each individual moment. Take a sports stadium filled with people, everyone will experience the passage of that event in at least a minutely different way. Enraptured diehards, bored sidepieces, excitable children and exhausted guardians, all experience this chronological transition uniquely.

Do I have a point? Nope. Just trippy as hell and if my mind was getting actively blown, I figure why not share the wealth. Everyone deserves a little cerebral fellatio from time to time. And who has the chance to flirt over cognitive martinis these days…

Anyway, I suppose what lead me to the preceding diatribe was my effort to reconcile my current well state with the staunch misery I enjoyed while crafting the following piece. To be honest I cannot even recall the specific tragedy, obviously the effects were hardly as pervasively deleterious as apparently feared. A fine lesson. Living in the moment is all well and good but only so long as you can retain perspective. In its absence any derived value from shaking loose a haunted past or escaping fear of an uncertain future, is largely, if not entirely, negated.

“Pause and Affect”, March(ish?), 2019.

Oozing thoughts drip within blighted skull

Each innocent and inconsequential alone yet

Aggregate melt flesh like fat in flame

Oilier still lamentations to desegregate

As when shook in water, anathema’s curse 

Stone flipped across glassen lake’s calm surface

Spawn acute ripples which swiftly vanish

Vacating waters as always have been

And ever shall be.

Depressing AF, no? We exist in an inescapable pit; positive change is fleeting and clandestinely insidious. FUCK THAT. In reality, our primary limitations are those which we place upon ourselves. So, you know, let’s not do that…

By the way according to M-W “glassen” is indeed an acceptable word so I’m going with it. Suck it, nerds.

Go be the Stardust you are! I for one, intend to sit quietly perched atop my bookcase with the other, possibly less exciting dusts.

-Alexander Blaikie

Categories: writing

dreadpoetssobriety

A broken mind held together by cellophane and some tack.