A loner's Ravings

It is funny how things look different after time has retouched your messed up life. All those sweet nonsenses sound exactly that: nonsenses without the sweetness. And you wonder how on earth you could have been so silly. And so stupid. The winter this time round isn't so cold. But the old romances are dead all right. And buried under tons of snow. It is like those apartments where you find the windows frozen shut because the snow is now ice. She seems to have decided the ice is better than me, as friends go. And maybe warmer too. So here I am. your old loner2 again! Wow. That does call for a good deal of effort. To remain a loner.

I made a promise. Now I wonder. What is a promise anyway ? Is it a two way system, Or do you just have to keep your part of it. And, screw the the other part. It sounds so much like humbug, I suspect it is humbug. I kept my promise for such along time I am now tired. And sick of it.

The silent ripples tell no tales as the river flows down the town. Like the dead, the silence is all the story you get to hear. And you sit on the bank and wonder and you hear not even yourself. One day you must be part of this. The unto dust stuff. That day seemed so far off. Not anymore though. Now I can almost hear the eternal silence.

This IS a screwy world. Whoever created it had a real bizarre sense of macabre humor. I just cannot stand this . Am I alone. I guess I am. Screw the planets and the galaxies and the big screwpot who created all this or did nothing to prevent this smuck being created. In a way i guess I am supposed to like this, all this. Don't wierdo's love wierd stuff. Ok. maybe that is true. But i just cannot. Look here. I am not talking about any %$&*ing existential question, ok. I am talking about. Life as in where you eat and shit and love and sleep. That is what is screwy. And I will let you guys in on a secert. My shrink is screwy too, only difference is he doesn't know it.

I wish for so many things. Like sleep Like quiet Like a good look at the sky. Like sounds of the stream and the flowers Like the noise of the trees. But all i can hear are the cries and the screams And the thunder of hatred. And I feel the shame of the helpless. There is nothing I can do. To stop this. Nothing anyone can do to stop this.

With the mad wind howling in my mind, And the clammy wetness of rain all around, The noises refuse to stop, Nature has gone nuts. Dirty. Sleep is so wary. And damp. How do people sleep? That never ending wonder seizes me by the soul. I guess, you need to be lucky to sleep.

What do you do when your choices are but two: starve or sell yourself. She took the second choice. I cannot cast a stone. Not when you have known what it means to go without food or even hope of food. So she was given the age old name. And and she went and got herself with child, and died after childbirth. I mean, you dont stand much chance when you are barely in your teens, certainly not when you have to hide the bulge in your belly. So the little girl died, leaving the barely born son alive, to live a life of shame in a world filled with the righteous. Maybe his maker will know what to do about this mess. And then there was this other girl. She chose the first option. And starved. When she couldn't starve anymore she suicided (committed suicide, if you prefer it that way). True, she held out for a long time. But there are limts, I suppose. People call the second girl a victim, and the first girl a whore. Well. What do you know !