A Hairy Loss

I can’t see for miles and miles,
anymore,
and I get freaked out
on details,
it is sort of like Kerouac said,
while trying to write “Memory Babe”
“The story is in the details,
and damn it I can’t remember them.”
And, commenting on Allen Ginsberg,
he declared Ginsberg was
little more than
“a hairy loss”.

Oscar Wild

Geez, I started getting
right with me dying
alone and stinky
unfound
in my early fifties.
And I watched older people
and saw how they reacted
when one of their group
died.

And I thought, wow, isn’t
it great that studies have
shown when you’re freaked
and freaking out you’re
losing your mind, it is not a
prelude to actually,
spontaneously, losing
your mind.
On the contrary, one eases
into mindlessness, and no
no one became senile
ever panic attack freaked
out about their thoughtless
slide into the abyss.
Of Satan.

Mindful Numbness

Oh shit,
redirect,
stop the too much
detail-notice
minute differences
uber-real,
and nip in the
half sentence
the intrusive/automatic
thoughts or
internal dialogue,
that sooner
than later
usually
may spiral down
soar in mis-judgment
and bring you
to where all is nonsense
seems a pity
and you wonder
feeling this bad
every sleepless waking
hour of life and is
it worth it? Appears, the
only way to stop
the most
horrible brain pain
is to act yourself
on yourself,
to ensure, Earthly
non existence.
Where all
the needless suffering
seems a colossal waste
and a pity
considering your
correct thought
non-rumination
very real philosophical and
problem solving
potential,
if you can ever get
over your present
condition.
Bet your bomb shelters
Marxist-Leninism
will rise again
in 2030 CE.