The dissident

The dissident

There is no escaping

the sense of the solitary self

no end of aching

as you wake coherent in the face

of a whirlwind of forces

battering your gate

and every movement you are forced to make

is a tug of war with some kind

of wind that blows back

and makes your blood thin

every motion a will at war

with every pull of gravity

and it is a grave

this world we enact

go forth and populate

before we even know what we are doing

the message comes too late

whispered at times

until death slaps you right in the face

with it: the reawakening

religions don’t seem as absurd

you take pity on the struggling winter birds

you even feel for the sheep

nestled in their clouds

sheared so that we can stay warm

slaughtered so we can eat

there is no escaping the whole

of our accident fate

no escaping the hole

the fog of ancient history

my DNA stars to mutate

as I meditate

no longer the stars seem so far away

each cornered room seems dark

the light is different

and I look to death like a friend

I have become attuned

to the cycle of play

in all its violence

there is only one rule I can take away

from this paltry span

on a doomed earth

God forsake every planet

let the Will be alone

as the beings it’s thrown

into the hell I’ve known

take the whole thing back

take my memories

let the sky turn black

I have no others to add to this mix

I am going back

I am life’s yearning dissident