Monday, 4 July 2011

In Dependence of Despair;
and of the Image Nation

Life, at least the living of it, is but bureaucracy as far as I tell. I don't recall signing the contract, though I suppose one might say that forgetfulness of the law is no excuse. And I furthermore take into consideration that, with every vague undertaking, I've established some implied consent.

Therefore, herewith, and henceforth, I would like to inform the authorities that I do not consent!

I awoke today - not with the intention of living life to its fullest. Quite the contrary. I awoke today with a singular, aching desire, insofar as desire is a part of anything other than my most primal instincts. Better stated, I awoke today with an aversion. I awoke today not wanting to have to bother with life and all that the living of it brings with and against it. As a matter of fact, that is how I awake every single, dreadful day.

Lest it go unnoticed, I view every single day as dreadful. So the implication is certainly true, that there are no days upon which I awake with any other feeling than that of a feeling of dread and despair.

Let it forthwith be here so noted that this has been issued in writing.

Yet life would have me believe that I have a choice in the face of this nagging dilemma. And that choice involves carrying to the likely conclusion the question that is. That is, that most-dreaded question, even more dreaded than waking up on yet another dreadful day: of whether or not to be. But the problem is: I already am!

And I wanna see the contract! Even if I don't remember signing it, which I don't, I should at least be able to refer to its contents so that I know what my responsibilities are.

Now, of course, with that request I have peeled the red seal from the can of worms. That is, after all, what life is, idn't it?
O say, can you see,
Life is bureaucracy,
Of a contract you signed
One you think you'd remember?

Though it's implied each day,
As you appear to stay,
Through the thick and the thin
From New Year's to December?

And that dread and despair,
Insofar as you care,
Hides truth of your plight,
End it all? You don't dare!?

O say, does this body of
Matter still crave
O'er life a victory,
Or into it to cave?