what is beatitude? or simple joy?
A blissful, elated existence demands the feeling of pleasure, no matter its context
what is a human without human qualities?
what is a shallow, hallow vessel drawn to eremitic natures
and suffers from an inability to sense slight human emotions
a misanthropic vessel existing - not living - in a misanthropic world
time goes by and carelessness grows prominent
people talk, people walk, people feel, people love
what makes a human a human?
what makes a machine a machine?
what is a washing machine without a power source to function?
what is a stove without fire?
what is a television screen lacking picture?
i often find myself anguished by simple human tasks
conversation and collaboration
laughters with crowds while true thoughts hidden in shrouds
A simple greeting, A simple smile
what is the difficulty in that?
why must my heart drop and ache,
my chest tighten, my mind break
my dilemmas and my anger grow founder
and general loathing grow stronger
the feeling of extreme compulsion to squash a bug
or to scream in a room with people never having heard your voice
or to push that girl off the roof
or to sew his mouth shut with a needle and thread
or to make your mother wish she were dead
or to drive a knife into his heart and throat
or to grab her head and slam it into the pavement
or to shoot yourself in the mouth
as your family watches television beside you
Yearning, not for the simplicity of a love,
but of an elimination of a hunger
and a painful rage boiling within you
Not one of jest or of stories,
but of a series of tragedies haven befallen since you were bred
of a reality simply out of your control
A control you hold on to as you do breath
something of daydreams and a mere “want”
dread turns to confusion turns to guilt turns to dread,
turns to craving turns to taking turns to naught,
turns to silence turns to reckoning turns to thought,
rot, i say, as my emotions have turned to ash as does fall from the sky!
like pouring rain drops on your head as you nod and cry!
hopelessness swallows thee whole
while those around dread the misery of your sorry sight!
and one so obscene it haunts you day and night
yet, what can thouest do?
what can a non-functional machine do
when laughed at the face by life itself?
Does the machine, left lacking tears, cry?
Does the machine, left lacking love, turn to others?
Does the machine, left lacking joy, move on?
you can even try to say goodbye!
but a machine’s very purpose is one of hardship
How can a machine with no feeling,
All that is left within this vessel,
is the simplicity of a thing such as “hope”
if not a concept of fraught
"An apathy so profound that it mimicked peace."
a condensed outline of the vessel’s existence
