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ts735bSTUDENT10
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the sands of time

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Views: 179

“Where fore art those innocent
and precious days of youth”?
That rhetorical question continues
to resonate and reverberate within
the catacombs of my mind with
increasing frequency! Where in tar
and feathered nation  (and feel free
and more than welcome to insert
and substitute your favorite expletive)
did those carefree, lackadaisical and
leisurely days of youth disappear?
I daresay any satisfactory answer
can be offered, but this dazed dis
belief might be akin to someone
becoming inebriated within a dark
end dive. Upon entering broad daylight,
blinking their dulled and glassy eyes
and fighting valiantly against sobriety
all the while, said individual relents
and confronts their bleak house
of existence! No great expectations
(by ens) ever seemed part of
formerly reticent and withdrawn
mere wisp and writer of these words.
He did seem to excel in various
and sundry obsessive compulsive
behaviors, which most serious for
those who still possess the capacity
to jog their fuzzy memory constituted
a deadly romance with Anorexia
Nervosa! Al though nearly three
quarters of these two score and
thirteen years elapsed since full
recovery from an attempt at slow
suicide via self-starvation, I can
honestly attest that a long shadow
of darkness impinged itself upon
thy psyche! In other words, a painful
awareness prevails that permanent
legacy affected maximum growth
of body, mind and spirit! Perhaps
the divulgence of such a poignantly
private and painful crisis (that nearly
rent his being asunder during emotionally
tumultuous prepubescent phase)
may be of little interest and less
relevant to his fellow classmates
than how he occupies himself at
this juncture, yes? Truth be told
nobody knows the troubles I went back
during the throes of adolescence,
which sever difficulty to cope with
(what might be deemed ordinary
transformations) prompted me
to take such a passive yet destructive
endgame upon thyself! With advantage
of foresight (always twenty /twenty -
even without glasses) and in retrospect
from the (supposedly storied) vantage
point of greater (cough…gag…hack)
maturity and wisdom, I trace cause
and effect. A parallel series of un fortune
ate events (perhaps beginning even
at birth, or well nigh at articulate con
ception for that matter), a woebegone
circumstance now finds me deeply
submerged into my own series of
unfortunate events Lake Lachrymose! 
Regular lock, stock and barrel reassess
ment of personal travails occurs with
pained reflections of those infamous
what if scenarios played out ad nausea
with little or no change in the present
dilemma. No matter how much mental
energy effort gets exerted nor the small
fortune of pennies tossed down the
wishing well to affect a more ideal,
satisfactory and smug past, the inescap
able and utter displeasure with this
actual and vast amount of tribulations roars back!
  

 

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COMMENTS

Contest Winner  

hitalot879 says:

your a great artist this piece is amazing

poems by this commentor

Clowns
Summer Was Young
Viral Debt

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