Wednesday, June 24, 2015

This Is The End

No one mourns the unknown dead

"I don't have time for you!"

I've had that literal phrase screamed at me before. Not entirely personal. I'm sure many who passed by Jesus on the cross said the same thing. Only he knew his fate just as Judas knew his. Both dead but different outcomes.

The phrase came from a friend, not a lover. God, the most ruthless and jealous of all beings in the universe, without exception allows time only for lovers. All else must die. Friendship is an illusion, a promise that cannot be promised.

I threw away my watch as a kid. Since then I've always been dependent on the kindness of strangers for time. But that can only be done for a time. Time is up.

So the nightmare is complete. No one has time for me but for my act. My act, of course, never has time for me.

I read where someone described depression as the inability to construct a future. I think it is more accurate to say that not having a future is highly depressing, Sherlock. I've used up all my future days in the past.
The woman was given the two wings of a great eagle,
so that she might fly to the place prepared for her in the wilderness,
where she would be taken care of for a time, times and half a time,
out of the serpent's reach.
Thank God for that. She must be kept safe.

We like to think we are in control. We are not. Our fate is sealed with every opening of the seven seals, just as a person jumping off a cliff cedes final say in his outcome. If we survive as a planet, it will not be by our own hand. This has been foretold but any idiot can see it who chooses to look.

The song remains a stain, even after all these centuries and histories before.

Hey Jude, don't make it glad
Take a sad song and make it sadder
Remember to get her from under your skin
And then you begin
to make it deader.

Sitting in a Danish oven
Waiting for the sun.
If the son don't come
Gonna feel the heat of a thousand frys.
I am the dead man. They are the dead men.
I am the Walmart, boo-hoo, boo-hoo.

If I can get everyone to want me dead, then dying becomes a virtue. Asshole.

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