I get by through
telling myself I'm just holding off
to the last possible moment,
saving up a surplus of tension
for the inevitable release:
an exhileration, exhalation,
an orgasmic annihilation
of every internal catastrophie,
subjective struggle and entangling complexity,
but there are moments when I begin to wonder,
begin to drag myself down: it's such an
idiotic masochistic tendency of mine,
such a bitter and stupid waste of time,
but these nihilistic ruts inevitably feed value
to deeper, pessimistic declines, so at least, at last,
I'll find meaning in something.
telling myself I'm just holding off
to the last possible moment,
saving up a surplus of tension
for the inevitable release:
an exhileration, exhalation,
an orgasmic annihilation
of every internal catastrophie,
subjective struggle and entangling complexity,
but there are moments when I begin to wonder,
begin to drag myself down: it's such an
idiotic masochistic tendency of mine,
such a bitter and stupid waste of time,
but these nihilistic ruts inevitably feed value
to deeper, pessimistic declines, so at least, at last,
I'll find meaning in something.
