war!

i got no idea how long this war’s been going on. it’s like the enemy knows where we are targeting but we in turn know where they’re targeting. it just goes on and on a piece of my army dies, they advance, and vice versa. every soldier carrying a big gun like real men and the veterans, the ones that hung in there still, work extra hard to remember why they fought to begin with. these guys get the medals and teach the younger ones how to kill. the time spent on the field boils down to us vs. them and never with. when a people’s culture is being crushed, it’s like they’re at war with insignificance. but our cultures are what we all have, they mirror each other but we’re not allowed to point similarities and possibly unite. we gotta hang onto one little tiny thing one person did and built an empire of hate on that, just to remind each side of why they were fighting in the first place. peace is having nothing change if you really think about it. the problem is the senority. old power was here first so any new ideas are treason.

i’m not really talking about war war. i was talking about myself constantly warring with a new sense of self and that i spent so much time trying to identify myself, i forget all the people i’ve lost along the way, even the people i used to be. if time is truly an illusion, then that part of me never really died, and the disavowing of our own history and the triumphs and failures we dug trenches into, well, it can feel like your old ass is haunting your new self. in a way, it’s a good thing we only look forward and to things like advancements and justice because we never acknowledge the angels and demons we had to become to be where we are. and that’s partly why it seems like a majority of our generation feels adrift in this sea of chaos. i’m always trying to figure out who i am without acknowledging that i was someone all along. sometimes, comrades run into the fire so the rest of the squad can have a chance. no one likes to be forgotten and i thought that must be what it feels like… when you sigh and say fuck it, and submit. it feels little but like i said, if time is an illusion, it’s like you forgot the friend that gave his life so you could learn how to advance, to grow. shoot, we could even boil it down to the sperm in the egg. it ain’t the fastest that gets born, it’s the lucky one.

remember the fallen and learn to forgive yourself whenever you find yourself doing something you don’t want to. at some point, you’re the other person, and holding onto that little something someone did a long time ago is like swimming in the sea with lead weights. in war, the people pulling the strings know everyone is trying to stay afloat and and gets credit for switching out the lead for pieces of wood. stay buoyant, and set a good example for those behind you, smile when you don’t feel like it, and remember complaining is for the fool that doesn’t understand. optimistic and self-less tropes like these are like propaganda to me from ten years ago. am i channeling an old young me?

i drank, smoked, fucked and took the world on with a smile. fresh outta basic training, and had an open mind. i knew who i was back then. the years passed and i’m older with a freshly packaged feel. i’m constantly trying to figure out who i am, and seldom happy unless aided by barbiturates and pharmacological treats. i’m guided by a senseless need to act like i turned out okay in comparison to my peers. i’m holding planks to stay afloat in this ocean and against all logic to just sink and leave this facade of peace, i hold on. i keep my head below the trench. gotta show these kids how to hope. hope hope hope for a better tomorrow. but the casualties will have been in vain! and we forget peace is having nothing changed. even things in the news are marketed as illusions of change. but it’s always the same. the world is always ending. “bitch, i am the world.”

the world hasn’t advanced so much as the technology we mirror it with has. the world doesn’t say a word, but goes a step further and shows you. we don’t need blackmirrored wizard tablets to connect with the world, the world consciousness is a real thing and it’s those of us who are silent and lost that are the most connected. i’m not talking about the hive mind, even though it’s real, but that means there’s a boss, and all efforts are for the empire and everyone but you gets a cigar. that war inside ourselves don’t seem so crazy anymore. sacrifice a few soldiers and call them heroes. a part of you tucked away in your past like a beautiful painting you always forget to go see. you don’t need to see into the future to notice you’re just coming up with new catchphrases in your very own sitcom.

everybody is camouflaged because nobody wants to die. i was so into myself i hadn’t noticed they were chipping away the best parts of me.

i’m getting getting younger as time goes on, and give my older self the props he deserved. he must be looking back at me thinking, “damn dude, you should write a book. you don’t hear it enough, but we held the line into this strange little blip in time where we were at peace with all of ourselves, true peace. my legs trembling, mouth dry, and my liver calm. you now know you can let the weights go whenever you wanted, but you wouldn’t have saved the lives you did. time itself is war but it takes a special brand of weirdo to make such a big deal outta things normally overlooked. i’d get carried away when that feeling of eureka covers me, then i say too much trying to articulate a feeling. i know it’s chemical and all, but is it really worth it to ascribe yourself to a robot and not believe in the magic? maybe i die every night and i wake up as the replacement clone most mornings. (getting carried away again)

i think i’m finally learning how to swim, and that i think about it, my pa did kinda call it when he said, “that’s my son, he’ll figure it out. watch.” as he tossed me into a pool. (inside joke.) …always, i go back to that story as though there were a deeper meaning.

your world reflects you and you it yet in the mirror your other hand is dominant.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Comments are closed.