existence is futile
Posted Mar 2, 2011 by anonymous | 104 views | 0 comments
What happened to the biggger picture? The dreams dreamed as a schoolboy? The dreams implanted upon us by our parents? Where did hope go? What about who we were going to be compared to who we are now? Once I walked through life with a bounce in my step and a song for every occasion but now all I hear is the wind whispering through bare trees. The branches creak as age dries the timber and the bleak, almost apocalytic cry of vultures disguised as men of money as they form ever tightening circles above my head. Awaiting the moment that I stumble. The moment I cannot afford this bill or that bill. Swooping down to peck, tear and rip every scrap of flesh from my battered and beaten body. I have no song now. Only dirges of depression and bitterness. I am a failure. I am a nobody. To be me is to be wanting. I desire life but revel in death. I am a detestable man. I have no hope or dream. I expect misery to take my hand and pull me close to her bosom. That is home to me. I do not exist as existence is futile.
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