A rebel without a clue.

Rain. Grey. Gray. Regret. Slouch. Slunk. Sunk. Remorse. Rebound. Sink. Skint. Bereavement. Undertake. Coffin. Stiff. It really is me verses alcohol again. Shambolic. Coffee and sugar. Demerera is unrefined but still toxic. Not sure. I reached a land of no return last night. I realise I simply have zero in common with Wetherby. The people here have no idea about life outside the four walls of various pubs. They are really dead people and I can't be like them anymore. I cringe at Carling drinkers. I guess happiness is something else than the driving nonsense that the UK sells. I find the vapid conversations going on in cafes a trauma of Britain. Scooter Works isn't like this at all; oh Lower Marsh. If you have anything: I can do anything. I have always done anything never something. I have no demands, expectations, requirements, just a want to meet people and be useful. I have no use to myself, but that mustn't be the summary of my 41 years. I am learning to see life di...

It's always I, me, mine But never they, them, theirs. Why so? Unitary and solo Standing back feeling hollow. Watching the Swallows, Martins or Swifts swoop Declining level ripple seed Splashing; dividing time. From morning to morrow While from the furtive breeze They borrow lives; temporary, Until the water bloats. And they flee in another Looping gliding hurry Troubled; the river boils, Creeping upon its own flotsom. Moment movements Ousted; fin de siécle, Jettisoned fragments Pushed beyond recall.

I can't be the model of your expectations. Why is it impossible to just let me be whom I am. I never question anyone about all the basic stuff. So many people are convinced that you have to be a certain way before they will accept you or see you as an equal. Why? They don't know what they want more than anyone else; they don't have any keys to the kingdom. A brain filled with money, job, marriage, two week holidays every year, work Christmas parties, BBQs in the back garden, etc ... Is a brain without choices? All the choices have already been made that will ever be. Without consciousness our essence and being is devoid of truth or reality. You don't like me because I have a different, difficult and uncomfortable point of view. I'm happy that you have found happiness in the normal expectations, but that has never delivered me to any promised land ... We will now go our own way, never to meet again.