There is slowly nothing left to catch us off guard.

The impasses that we come to are surprising.

There is slowly nothing left to catch us off guard.

Someday there will only be left the known, and the fear of the unknown will be conquered.

On that day we will breathe no more and our eyes will shut.

The light will be gone from our being.

The end of our days is coming short and knowing we are finite is comfort.

How much of this distorted and lost and violent world can a man take?

My soul is filling up with disaster and despair. No struggle is going to make me right.

Determined not to let my destruction be the legacy I leave I flail about in the night.

My torment is only beginning because I know that in the trial I am purged clean.

I will be twisted and turned over. I will be squeezed and bashed and battered and thrown.

I will be broken. I will be broken even though I am already shattered. I will become pieced together in the end.

I will be cobbled together to form some colonial road; made perfect by all the years of being walked upon.

The language I use will be long forgotten and the words I say will never be translated.

I will vanish into the history of man and no one will ever know I was on this earth. My steps will be erased and my memory will fade.

I am no hero; there is no substance here that should become part of the annals of time.

Dark Shorts Part 3 & 4

Part 3

Endings have a way of always starting again. Nothing is ever wrapped so neatly like freshly cut meat. The perfectly tied string around the brown paper; keeping in something that used to be alive. This absurdity we call life, merely an experiment.

The certainty of ending is always haunting, like a shadow in the afternoon sun. Who can find hope in this horrible violent womb? The places we call home are only breeding grounds for disaster. One misspoke word or misplaced comment, corruption in the misunderstandings. Waiting in line at the end of the earth there is no one to tell me the point of my birth. Living alone surrounded by others. Cancellations and corrections but no clear directions; how can we know the reason?

Life feels like treason against my own soul.

Part 4

Too many sick days in my current state of mind.

All my hopes and dreams are fading away; like the sun drifting into the sea.

There is so much fear and emptiness; praying doesn’t make it go away.

God is there, but maybe it’s me who has wandered into the darkness.

Maybe the light is struggling to find fuel, maybe its burning out.

This old man of me is wanting to be free, but he’s bound by his responsibility.

Driving forces inside this head, but already crashing into a wall. There is not much further until the end.

So many missed opportunities for joy, so much happiness for me and I just can’t grasp it.

Its like my hands are incapable of holding onto the things that fulfill; and my heart is shriveling in my chest.

The chaos of my intellect and the losing appetite for challenge is driving me to the brink.