A rebel without a clue.

A broken link A cog clipped A facet dull A tooth brittle To forge anew To append too To polish stone To wear down What is the boil becoming? The disappearance of being, Clinging to a fine ledge and Slipping towards the final fall. For nothing of any substance! Gone within the tenuous air. Self worth? Aka work... It's a mystery Many fathoms deep Boredom replaced by drudgery! What is it worth? Memories are valued work, Creating trails to connect Meaning with being, And not pointless waste, (As time seemed precious?) Squandered in foolish haste.

First I ran into nothing to say, Which meant to cease scribbling; Leaving pages blank. Then I found it difficult listening So I returned the last Audible audiobook (The Order of Time by Carlo Rovelli), As it seemed to be speaking in riddles, And Star Trek(TNG) became banal Making it so... Now I've realised this tinnitus is more intense and my girth is accreting. This Covid thing is the root cause (I am sure), And my front teeth ache, As each of my "joys" are curtailed. Too much of meaningless pursuits. Grasping at straws Where nothing really matters It has no telos. Feeding dry combustibles Into a spiritless flame Where passion fades.