This Old Man is Crazy. Don't Listen to Him!

I'm not even that interested in the cumbersome endorsement of things. If anyone went up to me and was like, "Hey, I knew you from that one thing!" the lack of specificity would've thrown me in my britches and sent me out the window. However, there is one thing perfect about this: even if one had the tenacity to butcher everything he had, he wouldn't have done it gingerly. Everything is its own picture. It is because of this that movies and videos of our lives are so underrated when compared to the photographs within our minds.

Suddenly, I'm nostalgic; how on earth do I make it so that my faded memories aren't as dilapidated as my body after an onslaught of fear? I don't think this is meant to be the perfect way to "kill a mockingbird." Either way, my soul is fleeing from every disaster that has become the "norm." It isn't so much that modern times are approaching some horizon; it is that the past is retreating back into the shadows.

So here I am. Sitting in my napping chair, rocking back and forth, 60 years old and wondering what substance the sky is made off. I was so bound by the chains of taxes from my 30s that I hated my existence as if it was some half-ass way of being. And I don't make any sense, even though my mind seems like its churning. But the butter's melted, and molding. I hate the fact that my expressions aren't directed. It's like a misbehaving bullet. I hate that pictures and videos and movies capture memories better than I can. I hate this. I hate that.

But most of all, I hate how just a few varying sentence lengths can turn a madman's rambles into something somewhat colorful. This is the worst I've ever experienced then. This is the worst of the worst of the best of the worst.

The lost meaning behind meaningful words. Like a crappy architect given expensive materials. This is the reasons for madness. This is the reason for being irreplaceable. This is why I am me. This is why art exists as long as anaphoras do. And this is why I will be hailed as no-one. Nobody. Just a lonely man on a napping chair.


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  • 2mo

    Sadly, I don't think anybody is really going to get it, but I still like it. ;)

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