theres this cloud in the atmosphere
like there isnt enough oxygen to go round
something heavy and oppressive
a wet blanket suffocating us

moods been alternating between blissful apathy and borderline rage
maybe ive just been bottling it all up for too long
letting it fester and age
swallowing all the discontent and disappointment
so that it feeds you

its the uncomfortable truth
the one they dont proclaim in sunday school
our best friends and comrades are ephemeral,
we're a lot more alone than we'd ever dare admit or realise
so very lonesome in this farce of an existence we label consciousness

the cycle goes on and on
like some out of tune carnival ride
till our dollars worth runs out
then it clangs to a stop
never to move again

like some surreal nightmare of clowns gone rogue
friends and kin run around with painted faces laughing and crying
and we get caught up in the play till the joke goes sour
and we find ourselves face first in something much worse than pie,
and for the first time
the epiphany
we never knew anyone
not even ourselves

the biggest joke is when we try and figure our place and purpose in life
trying to fit ourselves into metaphysical equations
its like the commercial where they gave a macbook to a monkey

we try our best to get into this program, or that ivy league varsity
or to get that amazing headstart in our career
for what?
so that we can feel miserable about ourselves, others and the world in all new and innovative ways?

so we decide we need to be "set apart"
need to be "consecrated"
like maybe if we isolate ourselves in the caves and mountains,
become monks and nuns
and give our lives over to prayer and sermons about revival
that maybe we'd leave our mark
cast our names in bedrock

like we ever could

so how many times must the tide come in
and flatten our sandcastles
till we stop


Blessings are not just for the ones who kneel... luckily