Lazy from C-Z

After the first flame I spazzed out, crashing to the bottom of the well, wailing profanities on the kitchen sink. Some men just savour the taste of a brewing mind and at the tip's end of a kitchen nightmare. Too many times have I asked the selfsame question: has this all been my fault? To a certain degree, one has to inherit the accountability. But the thing I learned most about working with difficult people is that it does not matter how at fault you are, heads will roll, and I will not go down not swinging. True to my word it was one hattrick away from being tekken. Would I really tekken myself though at the workplace? In the heat of the moment, and even now, I would. Nothing in this world will bring me unjust flavourings. The palette of my inner being deep down hungers for this turmoil. For so long have I been taken away from these negative impulses; it somehow feels refreshing now, even if I have too much to risk. I will not be an accessory to being secondhand. Everything else ...

The watershed moment of the twilight of my years has just narrowed down into a epileptic fit of self-rationalisation; this was supposed to be my moment, a self-inflicted coup de grace, to go down and out and be completely naked to the eye. I can attest that Zakhar is an incredibly phenomenal gift that came to me. He is everything one could want or more. The more I see his face, the more I look in hindsight the failure that was me to my own kin. I was supposed to be their chosen one, until I was not. I was supposed to lift ourselves up by our bootstraps. And now, to what avail but be in the mercy of forever memories that live on so long as I live on. That one massively colossal failure that stretches to a generational flop, in unkind fashion, making me realise that that too could be me. My mother after all is me. I take her own name to myself. It is her legacy. Will it be the legacy I offer Zakhar in turn as well?

Voices are telling me that I should carry on. So, in lieu of pushing away the negativity, dare I say the negativity shall breathe new form into function. In many ways, this is more of a regression than anything. All that ever was and will be always come full circle. Oftentimes I wrongfully conflate my status with wanting to be rebirthed into something more standardised and optimal. The joke here is that regardless of what skin one wears, the wounds remain the same under any outfit. Would that I could have had the chance to swallow my pride and resist the temptation to authenticate the denials, own up to it, and pick the bootstraps up waistlength. Who gives a flying toss? I am the darkness that I have always been.

My noggin is in all sorts of disarray; something is bound to break. Something about the smell of empowerment. Haunted by thoughts of my father's midlife crises long ago coinciding with mine. Something about the uncertainty of not knowing. Something about wanting to deny duress to take hold of darker urges, wherever this soulsucking hoover takes the dustbag for discarding. The strain of work and life licking and gustating the peripheries of my senses, doing my head in. Something about a child; something about bald dickheads; something about love; something about money; something about adulthood.

There has been a massive seismic activity in the aftermath of Zeny's passing since. Things that were probably taken for granted are being taken for granted, and, perhaps even, gave a false sense of hope that I could have never comprehended then or since. I can only assume that even before the real pressure has taken hold, the little things are all vulturing around waiting for a single moment of clarity. All this demystificating has taken a lot of my inner senses over a wide range of time, slowly masticating over the tiny reprimands, unbeknownst to the struggler. If only I could remember what it was like to actually savour life's many esoteric pains, for it no longer carries the same weight as it once did prior to that one loss, and maybe, just maybe, the pain that is endured post-pain is no longer as intoxicating as it once did me. My first child is bound to be here in a few days' time, and all that envelopes my senses is the other loss: Ani. Betwixt all the sweet and the s...