Archive for the ‘Депрессия’ Category

You try,

O how you try,

to do the right thing.

But at the end of the day…

You sit in a pile of ashes

and are reminded of the futility.

Pressure and distension,

people suck you dry.

Bones crumble.

Morals decay.

Life goes on?

Life goes wrong.

(Every fucking day…

life… fades away)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

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Disrespected,

abused,

dejected,

screwed,

neglected.

Unrequited love,

cascading unmet needs,

I cut my toenails

until I bleed.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

You pray,

you believe,

you hope.

Life goes on,

people suck you dry.

You get disenchanted,

disappointed

and exhausted.

You pray,

you try to believe,

you want to remember

what hope felt like.

One day you give up.

Soon, you will die.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Wave of futility sweeps over me…

Kalahari iceberg melts,

washes my dreams away.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Human existence…

Limited resistence.

Every now and then you run into a wall,

jaded, wise and cynical,

you realize the futility of it all.

Thousands of years of evolution,

one way or another,

for this?

(Poxy pinnacle!)

Why do we go on?

(Deluding ourselves with stupid songs…)

As a species,

when our primal urges are thwarted,

frustrated,

our lofty ambitions of improvement fail,

banality and futility reign,

and there is no hope,

what,

what is there left to live for?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Slough of despondency,

my sensitive soul mourns:

liberal society,

apex depravity.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

I used to have something

but now I am spent,

empty,

hollow,

bitter,

asunder rent.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

If you think about it…

in a sense,

innocence

doesn’t live here any more.

The child has come of age and realizes the futility of it all. He/she withdraws. Taut. Ready to explode.

Quiet and deep-thinking, like a Finn, and all that entails.

(Bread basket travesty…)

… Molotov Cocktail.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Woe is me,

Woe is you,

Woe is us…

Screeching fuss.

The human condition.

Heal me physician!

(As if!)

You seek help.

Placebo today,

Butcher tomorrow.

Vanity of vanities,

Perpetual insanity.

… Humanist?

What hope?

Together, all alone, we die.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

If you’re lucky, you “get” me.

Alas, I never get you,

or yours,

despite my natural ear for languages.

… I languish.

Illuminated and enlightened

in

perpetual anguish.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat