Shadows and secrets

In my mind, I still see you that way: a collection of vagaries balling on the couch. Your beer on the table, half way through your glass. Your book, almost down to the end. Your unbuttoned clothes, your chest, your heaving, your silence, your heart covered with scars and stitches and scotch tapes.
 
I was exhausted and you could have been my comfort, but you chose not to notice me. You’re all shadows and I’m all secrets, and after all our fucks and egos, beneath our clothes and bodies, we must have unearthed our hidden contempt.
 
This is one of those nights when I cannot weave my verses properly. I have thrown the couch and I have gulped the beer, yet in the fabric of my mind, you unravel my memories and insist, through all my filters, to live.
 
This is why I hate you: you are the sum of every possibility that I will never, ever be able to quantify.

Infinite contingencies, realms behind

Life can be overwhelming at times. All these election twaddle and murders of indigenous communities under the midday sun. Budget cuts, student suicides, untimely death of thousands individuals. Senseless bullshits and deceptive promises at the electorate and macro level. These have desensitized me.

Meanwhile, my existence in its microscopic sense is currently being remoulded.

It was yesterday afternoon when I made what is, perhaps, the dumbest — and most liberating — decision of my life so far: I am going to end my association with people who reside on the borders of self-righteousness, misguided notions of chastity, and rigid doctrines. Those whose denotation of high moral values includes quenching the dissenting ideas and alternative voices.

I am going to terminate my old friendships with those who once — perhaps twice or thrice or more than that — coerced me into attending some religious fellowships. I never had the opportunity to tell you this, folks, but what you did was very intrusive. You appalled me. You have no right to dictate where I should and should not be. Apparently, I own that decision.

On another end, I am going to deal with this world in a different perspective. Materialism is a very good framework of analysis, but recently, I have found myself toying with this contradiction: that it is not enough. That there are infinite contingencies, realms behind, beneath the surface of this material fabric.

Regardless of all these, I will nurture a close circle: with the brave, the curious, the clever, the strange, the sardonic, the interesting, the tactical, the remarkable, the dark and the many others who have the ability to unravel this world and get past these rigid parameters of rectitude and self-righteousness.

You see, folks, fundamentalism is static. It is the anti-thesis of anyone’s life. I wish I could say I regret any of these, but I don’t. Actually, being able to articulate my contempt and disappointment and hatred — I feel glorious.

PS.
You, by the way, are in my close circle. Now come here and lay with me. I will show you the narratives of the dragons, of the horns and the tails and the tide that will rise above the corruption of all heavens.

Apolitical oath

I said I’d write something tonight for this schizophrenic country. I’ve been thinking about reactionary oxymoron since yesterday. Or women’s struggle. Or political candidates’ — the five faces of democracy scattering their moronic presidential twaddle — fucks and egos.
 
But I am exhausted. I am exhausted of all the socio-political agitations in the social media that do not even try — even in the slightest — to scratch the foundation of the material realm. For now, I. absolutely. don’t. want. to. hear. any. of. those.
 
Tonight, I caught myself ditching all my remaining hopes (or the lack thereof) for the possibility of any genuine social change. Maybe I’m jaded, but earlier this evening, I know I have given up.
 
I would like to think that this kind of resignation is also manufactured. An inevitable outcome of alienation and detachment. Not death, but another kind of dialectics. But no, that would be delusion. I know I have fallen out of love.
 
So, this might be regressive, but I would like to bid my official goodbye to the materialist tradition and hello to Hegelian metaphysics.