today

I feel as though I should be experiencing some sort of philosophical revelation. My feelings are gone away with just the one remaining, the pain stretching from my ears to my back opposite my belly button. This enduring, making it through the long day despite the pain. This is the sort of thing that out to stretch my mind out as well. Tie it to the wall and beat some ingenuity out of it.

With only the one feeling, what have I to depend upon but the cerebral? Something profound must burst from my fingers, my mouth, my mind, and I should spend weeks proud of myself for having depth as a human.

If I am to believe what I have written, this destruction of the I that is occurring, the breakdown between the external and internal wherein I cannot believe that we are all in this common experience of debilitating pain, wherein I am the debilitating pain, this is something that should bring me to the very edge of enlightenment. Whether Buddhist or Western philosophical or some sort of self-realization, it should come.

Aren't I owed something? Isn't this pain worth some deep thought or some wonderful piece of creation that will help me to pay my way through life as an artist, one with talent, the beloved of society?

But no, the wretched sit int the gutters among the fallen and molding leaves, and we remain nothing but that to be swept away. Would that I might be swept away. Walking down the stairs, I am compelled to throw myself forward by a perverse temptation in the back of my mind. But no, you cannot do such a thing until you have spoken and been heard.

Only then will the masses mourn that one has entered immortality.