An Ever Increasing Production System

There is no meaning
to any of this
there is no meaning
to any
of
this
we want meaning, we strive
hunt, dive
walk, run, jump to
find meaning
and we can’t
so
we make it up
we create huge industries
for the creation
production
of meaning
call them schools
universities
colleges of
higher learning
when none
of what they create, make, define, design, build,
produce
in ever larger numbers
ever
larger quantities
of
meaning
is simply
us telling us
what
we want
to
hear…when
we know
we know
WE
KNOW
there is no meaning
to any of this
there is only
me
being kind
to you
set on repeat
until we
die.

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a screeching bass

I assume you know what Déjà vu is… déjà vu from the French, literally means “already seen”, and is the phenomenon of having the feeling that the situation currently being experienced has already been experienced in the past. The feeling never lasts that long but the depth and texture of it is so pervasive and striking that sometimes it causes vertigo.
Now, what do you call the feeling when you’re experiencing something that you truly believe is something that hasn’t occurred yet? Something in the future. Something yet to happen

A sixth sense maybe? Visions?

Now imagine that you’re experiencing déjà vu about an instance in the past where you experienced the exact moment you’re currently in now. And it resonates inside you like feedback in a speaker system, reverberating over and over, getting louder and louder with the harmonics echoing at a frequency you can feel in the marrow of your bones as well as in the fillings in your teeth.

A screeching bass.

The sound louder and louder overcoming your sense of direction, place, time…a deep thrum inside that you can’t determine the direction it’s coming from…although you know that it’s coming from the inside out, it is also from outside in.
It goes on and on and your sight wavers with visions of trees and weird alien structures, with time starting to crawl backwards, or seem to, yet you know your moving forward. In fact, you can’t help move forward because there’s almost a gravitational pull toward some unseen light up ahead, someone screaming…

… someone dying.
But there is no way to stop both the forward and backward movement, the deep frequency hum that is shaking you apart and it gets louder and lower and you feel your very atoms start to shiver, to shake apart and just when you feel…just when you feel like the very center of who you are will be blown apart and you’ll be nothing but bits of shadow, crumbs of matter….

…it stops.
Yeah…

I just finished Twin Peaks.
Wow…
…that Lynch dude.

Her in Boxes

The front hall is quiet, no
sound like before, like
I remember;
the bedroom is a
cavern of
small shadows falling
across lost memories
of her…
the boxes stacked
sat
cluttering
the hallway aren’t
aligned, no
corner to corner, no
order;
she would frown
when that happened, when
faced
with disorder, that
thing
with one eyebrow
pulled down
the other
undecided…
her in boxes now, all of
what is left
all
that there is, but
nothing from the hospital
that was never
her
and nothing
from before
me;
a me that no longer
exists…
I am only what I am
after
her
now
her in boxes, unaligned,
can’t
take that
away.

sharing

I don’t think I’ve shared that I’ve been going to intensive psychotherapy for years. I guess it’s just one of those things that’s tough to talk about.

My Therapist has been working with me to help me really look at myself and undertake a realistic assessment of both my strengths and more importantly, my weaknesses. Just last week he finally got me to see—and more importantly; admit—that I was “self-harming”.

And I have to tell you that I was sincerely relieved when I finally confronted this dark part of my life. The entire diagnosis is really very complicated but I think my Therapist called the disorder “The Gym”.

Well, I think he said that…I mean it was really loud in his office with the game playing on the TV…

…and he WAS making someone else a cocktail at the time.

dead end

We are elusive, lost
in time we fail
we slide
we go away, we
come back and
it is all the same
as humans we see
with human eyes
human brains
deciding
human things
we can’t see the tree
the animal
the germ, bacteria
we don’t know them
can’t
but we think
we do
a billion trillion
planets
times that many living beings
we don’t
know…
we can’t
but
we are going to
try
we have to;
the street we’re on
is a dead end
and the car
we’re in
is going a million miles
an hour
with no brakes
or
steering wheel…
we are lost
and always
have been.

falling smoke

It felt, he
saw
it was smoke falling;
wispy tears
from the eyes
of angels, it was
the end of
the beginning
he cried and
relented
no longer
standing firm
now not a firebreak
against the onslaught
the emotion
of life
he relented
and accepted a world
he neither
knew or
loved
any more
…she was gone
leaving no shadow
no stain
nothing but hurt and
pain
like the road that was never
traveled…not
less;
never
and he watched it like a movie
feeling a separation
an angst but
less
more
she was not in love
with him, not…
just
not, and
the smoke fell around
his face
his life
ending
the model of a fantasy
built quickly
to standards long ago defined
but not agreed
to
not carried
by
her…
…past the
beginning.