Hyperbolic Time Chamber

31. 31 going on who knows at this point. Will I live longer, will I be rich. Will post-apocalyptic times come and I’ll be ass kicking and scrounging for precious water and Nixon bucks? Future assault me now. Does age matter to me anymore or am I preoccupied with fretting and comfortably slipping into the old age that was with me since teens. I was a bitter old man and now I’m complacent? finding my centre with meditation and principle living. Now these birthdays are coming on faster and the years rush on like everyone said. O mortality, thy vainglorious attempts at humility are upon me. Ever are the wounds of time scoring brown flesh like mumbly bumps in the night of the staged opera. Operata nominata sanctus sotos necronomicana. Babble Bible bibliotheque, twisted tongues and babel drivel. Oddness rising, setting sun on autumn years, nix the dementia.


Snakes and Ladders

Make a healthy life, make a healthy life
Must I find a wife, little loving wife
Matchmaker matchmaker why you run away
Am I still the same, am I going sane
Would you tell me what to do
Would I listen to you
I think not I think not
While I stay here and so rot
In my hobbit hole of hate
In my maudlin depressive state
Lenny hug my girl
All atwitter message me message you
Live me love me pay attention to me

I’ll have to do more positive stuff like I used to do. Spend more time with yoga and meditation and now this “mindfulness” thing I’ve had recommended by my psych. I feel like I don’t have a choice because the heartsink is growing and will not leave me until sleep; sweet, relieving antacid pill dozery that drags me outta hell by the short hairs and soothes and vibrates the skittery mind. The ennui, restlessness, rigmarole coyote chasing the roadrunner and never getting anywhere satire of my life in four parts.

Worries and doubts, trouble the mind, seep into the fleshy magnetism of this corporeal brain.
Fear. Fear of living, breathing aching accepting what is. In front of me.
Afraid so much of being happy, being uplifted and positive, the high life just a daft punk throwaway on the lessons of time stamped on me.
Throwaway me likely ivy brain fart lively, try me fuck me fuck you sigh me.