The land of the wilting sun


A blank cursor blinking at me, terrifies me

but i will never give in to

this, this scare-mongering tactic designed to

reduce me

to the dusts of terror and near-faith, but

never, ever real-faith, for what is faith but

a suspension of disbelief, designed to

remove

the fear of the bogey man who

lurks under

the

bed.

My imaginary friend is better

than your

imaginary friend, and if you

disagree, i’ll

kill your

family in nasty

ways.

I go to work and then

come to a place where

i can be alone, which i call

home, but which

really isn’t.

It is where

i

drink, and smoke and live alone

and never open the

curtains, and smoke

out of the curtains,

into the open window

where the neighbour

never comes.

I wish this wasn’t how

it is,

but it

is and i never, in this lifetime, considered

that it

would

be.

My friends have children,

who look very

similar, but who act like the children

i once believed i’d have with women

who now walk

along the tiles in malls with

fake waterfalls and palm trees and themed restaurants which

look nothing like

God.

Please advise…is there more to this? and if so,

when will i be allowed admission into

the club?

What do i have to do in order to fit in, to conform?…i’ll do anything

at this

point, just show me what i need to change, be, become

in order

to  gain acceptance

into the land of the

wilting

sun.

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