Anger belittles, scorns and tosses around
The rearing dragon of flames and wrath
Its ire burns the leaves off their branches
Leaves the ground scorched, bare remains
I feel played out by technology. or rather, my inability to master technology and enslave it to me. Sometimes I can't deal with the locus of control being external, nor can I willingly watch my work stall and evaporate in front of me.
I rant and scream and kick and curse. But nothing is salvaged, nothing is gained. Just an outlet, for imagined satisfaction.
Behind all that is a burden so heavy I forgot to share it. And re-learning to share it is difficult.
A sense of hollowness is now the filling, restlessness is my sleep.
I wish fervently for everything to be over, convinced the days will bring better but never ever. When will I learn to detach myself from such delusion? Or conniving assumption? So optimistically pessimistic, I never thought to do things by half.
When all goes better, and the sky be clearer, I'll wipe the dust off the surface of normality and blow its smoke into my face, inhaling its filthy fragrance like opium to the soul.
The rearing dragon of flames and wrath
Its ire burns the leaves off their branches
Leaves the ground scorched, bare remains
I feel played out by technology. or rather, my inability to master technology and enslave it to me. Sometimes I can't deal with the locus of control being external, nor can I willingly watch my work stall and evaporate in front of me.
I rant and scream and kick and curse. But nothing is salvaged, nothing is gained. Just an outlet, for imagined satisfaction.
Behind all that is a burden so heavy I forgot to share it. And re-learning to share it is difficult.
A sense of hollowness is now the filling, restlessness is my sleep.
I wish fervently for everything to be over, convinced the days will bring better but never ever. When will I learn to detach myself from such delusion? Or conniving assumption? So optimistically pessimistic, I never thought to do things by half.
When all goes better, and the sky be clearer, I'll wipe the dust off the surface of normality and blow its smoke into my face, inhaling its filthy fragrance like opium to the soul.
