Days of pain and angst;

compromised, desecrated:

perfect time to write…

 

(To be continued…)

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

It doesn’t *really* matter,

but in this moment, it does;

in fact it feels enriching and enlightening,

putting off the onerous thing we don’t want to do.

Diversion, made meaningful;

digression, mental serenade,

life beautiful.

 

(To be continued…)

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

The longer that I live

the more that I realize

what it’s like to be tired of life.

But what is the alternative?

And, besides, in lucid moments

I conceptualize:

It is not life, per se, that I am tired of,

it’s the shit that people impose on it,

on us:

needless complications,

bogus obligations.

 

(To be continued…)

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes, it is good to forget.

Sometimes, detachment is the best way to connect.

Sometimes, delusion protects sanity.

Sometimes, strength is fragility.

Sometimes, we just need to let ourselves be…

 

(To be continued…)

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

“Who is this weirdo?!”

Agitatedly, you ask…

Not seeing yourself.

 

(To be continued…)

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Striving, working, doing,

jumping through the hoops.

Action, reaction, effort,

punctuated by despair.

… Sometimes living the dream,

is a real nightmare.

 

(To be continued…)

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Seeking direction,

alone in absurdity,

we wait for a voice…

 

(To be continued…)

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Fearing tomorrow,

and onerous compromise,

is no way to live.

 

(To be continued…)

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

“It was nothing,” she said,

“it was meaningless.”

And in a twisted sense, she was right,

for nothing is truly meaningless.

(To be continued…)

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Bright shiny objects,

and lewd, grubby exhibits,

equally catch eye.

(To be continued…)

©SvetkaSamizdat