By Jeremy M. - Posted on 26 October 2010



There is a ghost outside my window.


With each passing day

Moving forward, never stopping

In every single way

Hopelessly losing, coming to acknowledge

What it means to be human.


Or at least, my own brand of humanity.


Lacerating Lacerations

Tormenting Torment

Self Discipline.

Writing for the sake of writing

Lets see where this goes.


Life is all the things, the sum total

Of all its varied constituent parts.

Headbanging recalling times broken


But this is who I am.


There were people who told me who I am too.


Folly told me. They said this was once a beautiful painting.

And Ivan told me to turn my ticket in.

I used to think life was simple

I used to feel free.

Now I am trapped.


God is entrapment.

We cannot escape what is Good, what is Evil.

We are bound by the definitions of what is objectively right.

Freedom is naught but an illusion

Because the very things that give us freedom trap us.


I will lacerate myself

Because I have a problem inside

That I refuse to face.

Oh woe is the human being

Who begins to think.


As soon as that first thought of what is or why

Creeps into the lake of thought

It is forever tainted

Forever feeling trapped

By walls built.


I cannot accept the way things are.


The ghost outside my window

It might be my future self.



This is what happens when I work myself up into a frenzy on the way back from a play about Robert Frost having just read the Rebellion chapter of Brothers Karamazov while listening to Broken and Forfeit Sundials by Folly.

dbanach's picture

This was pretty Awesome! I'll have to try reading Rebellion while listening to Folly too. (That actually sounds like a good song title;)

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