When the curtain falls, where will you be?

Probably roasting in the fire with everyone else.

Go on, Give me a nice internal scream,

Maybe the camera will pick up your hopeless twisted despair.

I’ll post an emoji on there that cries with laughter, just to lighten the mood.

There.

Now off it goes to my closest friend.

Oblivion.

 

Turn yourself around, Subject.

Watch your creations disassemble the irrational ambitionism you gave them. Isn’t it beautiful?

For one to return to that from which it was hedonistically ripped. That, is art.

What you’ve done, subconsciously and with robust naivety,

to foster fake meaning and concoct a great poisonous grey matter purpose

in order to get a continuous hit of its alluring fake-peace high.

 

Folly                                                            Folly                                                            Folly

 

The deed is almost complete,

and only when it is shall you see the depths of your own misdirection.

Maybe then you will be worthy of life.

Not that you’ll have enough left to act.


Written by RJP

Freelance writer of fiction (poetry, short stories and - one day - novels) and non-fiction articles. To date, the majority of work on display has been random items of practice that seek to test the limits of imagination whilst attempting to weave various ideas on society and the pursuit of understanding. Stay tuned.

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