Friday, December 11, 2020
Only the coming rain
Can one get burned out on life, permanently?
Because
The truth?
Since I can remember, I have been forced to care
So much so that I was beaten and shamed for not caring
From this I realized that forcing me to care was a grand slight of hand shared
I realized I don't care about the authors of their own story, making such great effort as to cause me to maliciously sacrifice what I may have once cared about
Now too much has changed
It has been too long
I don't remember
So much abuse and confusion, causing such static, around what I was forced to think (was a natural or rational base impulse)
I had forgotten to care about myself
Indeed this was the plan from the beginning
I then realized that I cared about very close nothing
I lost interest in others contorted fantasy
Like an animal I appreciate the basics
Sun on my skin
Food in my belly, but not too much
And a place to sleep...
safely and in the quiet of night
A reversion to the basics when all the people in your life have sacrificed you in order to author their own story
There is no story
Only the coming rain
Barry
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