What is this?
Jeremy1012
Posts: 7,170
What is this?
This intangible presence that sticks in my throat
like a morning,
passive, cold, an exercise in total sterility?
It doesn't BOTHER me as such
(or should I say, it doesn't harm me?)
but it makes me uneasy.
It's not the unknown that unsettles me,
for I really know very little,
but the ever present sense
that my feeling (for want of a name)
is just along for the ride.
I'd love to think there is some profound meaning
but experience has taught me otherwise.
It may just be me chastising myself for
recent self-abuse and over-analysing.
I AM prone to over-analying...
Perhaps I should just go along for the ride.
God knows, I haven't been anywhere nice recently,
it's damp, cold and the fog makes my hair frizzy,
I'm irritable, cynical and my sense of humour is becoming VERY dark.
I'd tell you a joke but I'm tired and really
have no interest in tickling that particular bone.
Needless to say, you wouldn't laugh anyway.
You'd probably smile politely and turn,
back to your instant coffee in your
cardboard cup, safe in the knowledge
that you are happy with your lot and that,
no matter what life decides to throw in your face,
you can be sure as fuck that things can only get better.
And I? I'll return to my little plate of self-indulgence
and my "feeling". It doesn't bother me anyway.
It doesn't harm me.
This intangible presence that sticks in my throat
like a morning,
passive, cold, an exercise in total sterility?
It doesn't BOTHER me as such
(or should I say, it doesn't harm me?)
but it makes me uneasy.
It's not the unknown that unsettles me,
for I really know very little,
but the ever present sense
that my feeling (for want of a name)
is just along for the ride.
I'd love to think there is some profound meaning
but experience has taught me otherwise.
It may just be me chastising myself for
recent self-abuse and over-analysing.
I AM prone to over-analying...
Perhaps I should just go along for the ride.
God knows, I haven't been anywhere nice recently,
it's damp, cold and the fog makes my hair frizzy,
I'm irritable, cynical and my sense of humour is becoming VERY dark.
I'd tell you a joke but I'm tired and really
have no interest in tickling that particular bone.
Needless to say, you wouldn't laugh anyway.
You'd probably smile politely and turn,
back to your instant coffee in your
cardboard cup, safe in the knowledge
that you are happy with your lot and that,
no matter what life decides to throw in your face,
you can be sure as fuck that things can only get better.
And I? I'll return to my little plate of self-indulgence
and my "feeling". It doesn't bother me anyway.
It doesn't harm me.
"I remember one night at Muzdalifa with nothing but the sky overhead, I lay awake amid sleeping Muslim brothers and I learned that pilgrims from every land — every colour, and class, and rank; high officials and the beggar alike — all snored in the same language"
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