Cold...is the wait for nothing.

Some days I wax maudlin. Its the way I’m wired. I heard an appropriate lyric the other day. “Sold- are the dreams I had and cold- is the wait for nothing.” Understood. Grey is the color of the sky this morning; as am I inside. Dawn & shadow moves across the land like a scourge. This is my time. Splendor. Dark, dirty splendor. I wonder if all I write or say has meaning for anyone but me. Am I just an empty black hole in life? Am I only a useless round wall skater; scarred & broken? I know little and care less. Its as if the gods I’ve always read about,  have all gone home. The angels hovered-carrying brutal weapons- and saw us with all our inadequacies, then fled on fluttering wings,  appalled at our savagery. It rained last night & the gutters are still running,  much like the glue that holds me intact. I feel godless, soul less, with no close family, few real friends or beliefs in anything. I’ve had disdain for a long time.

The world is a concrete prison of wires, dirt, desolation & decay. Strangely, I burn inside. I want to light the night time like the day. I want to make the pagan gods -if they exist-recognize us again. I wish to dance about a sparking fire with filthy, wrinkled witches in a hidden, gloomy forest glade….worshiping primal things. I want to taste evil as only the dark ones can experience it.  Life keeps pushing me…hard! Heaven forbid I become fed up & push back, raining panic on the world. I sit here watching society scurry. People clamor & move frenetically enroute to nowhere…I sit on the strand staring, as the dawn continues bleeding across the horizon. The ocean spreads out into the distance; a malevolent thing…uncaring. It goes on and on and on. Thank you MRZ for the image. Skate-Ozzie