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The days, daze & maze

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Guardian Angel part 4
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Worry—eat curry, scurry…no, not in a hurry! Soon all those memories, pointless to bury, infatuated with happiness yet best friends with misery and his friend named dreary, just like dairy, a defense mechanism actually, one that has now failed and taken over, no longer steady, the boat shaky, the defense flaky. The path is slippery, one slip and there goes his soul in entirety. What is the future, what is the world, when hauntingly it appears as if scums, idiots are in control of the world and it appears as though animals in human forms are in control of the lives of yours and mine…or at least, the lives we believe to be mine and yours?

 How untrustworthy, ‘the next day will come by shining’, they say with a smile and a frown, yet they know not what tomorrow has been planned for thee, verily they too are plotters, yet re-assuredly he said, ‘there is no re-assurance’. Maybe I should get some insurance? Now, now I can anticipate negligence and get through accidents with assurance. Such is the world, pleasant not for the peasants...who can’t afford even insurance, only faith in the omnipotent.

 Gloat arrogantly, why not? I only have a goatee, so I’ll remain timid with whatever self-worthy left instilled in me, murky—under waters where is this thing called self worth? Who decides on worth or self-worthiness? The pigs or the ones governing them? Self praise, now that’s something I am acquainted with, when there is no praise, the self tries to accept itself and creates empathy, empty empathies, a day dreamer, hallucinating made-up fantasies, picturing praises from those deluded wide in numbers. Hedonists, hard workers, hard to party…doctors’ who are heart-dead, reviving hearts, beating once again, a piece of meat, no light, none of the sort…only the rulers of the world, the hearts are dead, priorities widespread, a calamity, that’s what it is, beating hearts devoid of a light that transcends; one that brings about not benevolence…what upraising? Shrouded are the hearts with shreds of greed and dark entities.

 Tied to a pole, hung to a trunk, stretched out entirely, they look at him appraisingly, what do they know? Nothing, not even aware of the fact that they’re only in abundance with deficiencies. His eyes sunken, he smelled of a skunk to the people whose hearts are hard like dry dungs...

 Tomorrow! Nay the near future, the far future, a child then a teen, insufficiencies in entirety; grateful not from what you can see and now an adult who is trapped in adolescency, what is puberty? In my search for answers, meanings, wisdom amidst deficiencies, now I am facing my demise? Fret not for the path hath been found, now-now not a man who is re-born, but more like a blind man without his stick, trying to surpass the world and its murky grounds, guarded by hounds and heavy thorns.




Previous short story:
Guardian Angel part 4
Next short story:
Guardian Angel part 5

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about the writer


Often seen as cold, bitter and distant but in reality is cool, sweet and not very distant..haha Sometimes I feel like saying what Kierkegaard said, People understand me so poorly that they even dont understand my complain about them not understanding me. On the other hand often I assume of understanding people i guess its a given or an irony or something else..depends on how you see it..
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