Do you ever feel like a midlife soul within a collective midlife? The personal melds with the global, has sex with the Universe. Are plans folly? Intention goes astray. Yesterday and tomorrow battle over today.
I no longer identify with reality.
Just like that and in slow motion life became an escalating what the fuck sandwich. Another day, another bite, wondering what’s right. We are perpetrator, victim, enabler. We are actor and audience. We are complicit. No, we are deterministic. No, we are asleep.
I am watching the unraveling.
Truth and Untruth had a baby named Bullshit and we are fighting over whether to breastfeed it in public. The gaslight isn’t even subtle anymore. The valve’s been shorn off the main. All hail insanity’s rapturous flame.
We lean harder and harder on pander and spin. Anything. Everything. All to win.
Driven is a place in this world. An eyeless nobility. Nose to the stone. Grinder and ground. Go on, go on. Drive. To the top. To the bottom. Anywhere. Nowhere. By any means. As long as you keep going you’re already there. Glory be, glory be.
To a fabled fountainhead we forge upstream, as the costs float downriver lost in the dream.
Look at Mother Civilization. The pinnacle son, America. People made plans, built livelihoods. Smart people. People bursting with ambition and vision. They toiled. They killed and died. In this world it always ends up with the killing and the dying.
Merrily, merrily. To a karmic sea we can’t see.
Though we never thought the killing could be so pretty, so packed with dazzling ability. Holocausts within holocausts. A death omnibus. Our romance with vampires and zombies just an reflection of our undead mass + velocity.
If you look honestly there’s murder in everything of our making.
Every solution, every invention, milestone, discovery, victory, brought us to this place. God brought us here. Science brought us here. Freedom and Liberty brought us here. All our successes just turned out to be consequences.
The accounting in the millions and billions. Onward to trillions.
Meanwhile, there’s a war program for every ill. Meanwhile, they’re working on it. Meanwhile, something’s just around the corner. Meanwhile, a sovereign nation-religion keeps raping kids while it claims to save souls. Meanwhile, water flows where glaciers used to grow.
All signs point to escalation.
Debt is lifeblood. Make-believe fuel for a make-believe world, a guarantor guarantee bloodsucking jamboree. You get yours and they get theirs times infinity. We must keep creating negative nothing. What we cherish most, our children’s children we feed to this hungry ghost.
Shhh. Never admit that the present lumbers on because it eats the future.
And everything we overcame is still here. Still sharp. Sharpening. From the intersecting landslides of doubt and uncertainty grows the desire for authority. Enter the call for strong men to call for the heads of the straw men. Enter the wars of ideology.
Time for scapegoats and sadists’ magical thinking.
Fear loves assholes and so begins the persecutions. Time to rain pain on the powerless. Time for brutality without apology. Passive-aggressive inspirational internet memes. Shame as a means. Time to loose every imaginal scheme to keep our conscious clean.
We’ll blame anything but reality.
Everyone has the answer but you got to pay for it. It’s all in your head. Eat this. Don’t eat this. Think this. Stop doing that. Here comes the banning. Pick a side. Draw a line. They say everything is better, comparatively.
All our truths are turning up lies.
The Dali Lama said a thing. They say pot cures everything. Listicles Saved My Life. Someone said plastics were the future and they were right. The future is now choking whales, leaching into our cells. Omnipresent. Forever.
Another massacre, another fit of thoughts and prayers.
The past haunts us while we yearn for its return while we forgive its sins—a long dystopia fascinated with predicting looming dystopias. The end is now! No, wait. Now! Now? Are we burning or glowing? Is it all continually growing or popping?
But we don’t dare stop. We won’t yield to the pain.
We treat the existential dread, the dawning awareness, the collective grief aching in our veins, with a nonstop one-way ticket aboard Disney’s Denial Train. A prescription in a pill. A reform bill. New rights, extra daylight.
It’s heresy to say that it’s all in vain if we don’t get off the train.
Success means less for everything else, less of everything else, until ultimately, we’ll cut down the last tree. Just another being to add to the list of extinct things. There’s only so much that can be turned into the United Reality of We.
And still we won’t concede.
So many end days in the book we wrote, a pastime of crying wolf from the place at the bottom of its throat, oblivious to the thresholds and Rubicons we’ve already crossed on our boat. Bit by bit, and all at once, here come the throes.
Here come the claims that we’ll always float.