Lazy from C-Z

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.