Lazy from C-Z

The rain season sweeps away the old, welcoming in the new, and giving a chance of redemption for that mini spring bop. New words and new sound and new faces and fresh beginnings; one can only hope to reassess their sense of selves in the magic of the moment. But insofar as time is concerned, there is no such thing. This indiscriminate lack of regard is typical of a more metaphysical viewpoint. It is yet unfortunate that we have yet to fundamentally understand the true essence of time and how it persists; how it remains to be; how to explain it in a less vague sense other than the tenses of past, present, and future. Let it be said that the idea of time itself is relative. From our perspective, here on this planet, with a congruent sense of sameness, regardless of location, time is a linear path going forward with no reprieve at all whatsoever, and if understanding the what and how of time is, there is no doubt one can attribute a form of deliverance unto the mystery in and of itself, a...

Sometimes I have to manually negate all the peripherals in the background in order to mitigate the noise. It overpowers when smothered by these inevitable events wrapping me into its tendrils all at once. Were I a wiser man, I would give up on one of these poisons and choose anew, but at this stage I have consumed much of the copium to just give it all away now. Maybe it truly is my rightful might. Two years ago I inhabited this persona of a multitasking man for the goal of winning an aesthetic. The aesthetic being that was the anima of a live anomaly from a far and away land, where dunes were all too common with their beaches and the daily warmth of the sun swallows each and every one whole. It was a long and winding road to a painful end, the kind of which echoes in my mind to this very day. Perhaps I should have heeded my own warnings. I told myself before the excursion to prepare for whatever eventuality should that decision result, but the results were far more sinister than I had...

A minor hiccough, some. One tip and there goes my temper. Forces whispering in my hand's own will. I wish to reconcile with whatever little respect I have for myself. No one knows, but good, whatever it does for me. No soul is free from the tempest that is my gaol. The good thing is that I am slowly fitting in. The bad thing is that it seems to me getting out will be quite a frightful, especially knowing that the uncertainty that behooves such madness is beyond my capacity. One good move in chess changes everything. Mine victory came at such fruitful and impeccable timing. Hopefully this means that sustainability comes at a stable pace. One would assume that the bearance of a struggler is easier with a compatible tandem. At this area Ani has been astounding and beyond words of expression. She has paved the way, smashing the wall with her pickaxe finding light on the other end of the wall that resists our advancements. Over the course of time we both will find a better way to addres...

It is easy to avoid the fear of decay when right now everything else is tinted with rose. I fear I may face a rude awakening. Sooner or later, the behelit opens up to the apostle worth a penny, and if I had a penny for every single ballbuster out there wringing my head on a noose, I would be earning paltry minimum wage. Sometimes you need not seek absolution, sometimes you have to be unapologetically you . At this very moment I am simply glad that Ani is drunk with our love potions. It comes across as a bit of relief instead, a mitigated calculation which could have been much worse. Those reassurances I tell myself every single day work only for the betterment of my here and now and not for the there and then. Suppose it would be a preferrable choice if I imagine how massively defeated I would be if handicapped by multiple attackers in every angle. The choice I made in December of last year would have been proven fatal. Do not make me regret that which has made me feel jubilantly alive...