PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I find myself asking to no one except myself: "What the hell am I doing?"



I don't know, but I can feel the results.

I'm an old man, trapped in a decrepit body.

Age doesn't matter, my arms throb.

Can't stand up. I'm weak.

I'm tired. Waves of annoyances pulsate across torn-up muscles.

I'm 25. I can't do what other normal 25 year olds can do.

I don't know why I'm breaking down.

If I can't keep up with myself physically, how can I possibly do it mentally?

I'm so weak, I can barely do things. God can't explain why this is the way it is.

Our lives are meaningless. Too sore to distract myself from this.

Alas, there is meaning in all that I feel! I am wrong!

Pain: life's way of reminding us how meaningless everything really is.

As long as we're not feeling pain, as long as we can distract ourselves, as long as the hurt is kept at bay, as long as it lasts, we'll inhale it in the time it takes to breathe one breath.

Alas, it's only a matter of time. Time: the reminder that pain is omnipresent, even if lurking just behind the stage. Pain: what embraces, what allows, the stage to exist.

I love god, I get spit upon. I spit upon god, I get spit upon.

Perspective is truth, truth is reality, reality is perspective. All three are always correct.

Why eat healthily? Why exercise? Why care?

We eat healthily, we exercise, we care because all of these give us a bit more speed. Speed, cherished in vain, to outrun the boogyman. To run in fear of the inevitable. To run until our healthy little hearts burst from exertion, burst from anxiety, burst from pain.

I thought money enabled happiness - but that's only a rung on the ladder.

Others believe it's friends, lovers, cherished times/memories that instigate happiness.

Some think it's a positive attitude, optimism, that foments happiness.

Many look to god for happiness, many believe god grants them happiness.

These are all rungs, rungs rungs rungs. Rungs on an infinite ladder to somewhere we will never be.

But what is the ladder itself, as a whole, called? What cradles all of these rungs?



Distraction.



Without it, pain prevails, hope plummets, and the life-cycle continues as if nothing ever, ever happened.