Customized Suffering – 5/30-31/17

IMG_20170118_212204019 (2)Customized suffering is all this is.
Each pain, each bump in the road is just for me.
I lie to learn about the truth about a life full of death and paradoxes of pain and refrain.
There’s a specified hurt designed to steal my comfort and stick a price on my sleep.
Sanity is a temporary stop, a back-float on a rough sea;
Gasping. Grateful and grasping.
There’s a deep, special misery that fits like the missing piece into the opposite of my
desires, yet I go on toward death with the blind hope of relief but told to embrace the suffering life.
The suffering and suffocating contradiction of the human condition of repetition
and pain. . . Intentional pain and suicidal curiosity held at bay by the instinct to
improve, survive, and try to stay alive, . . . but why?
For a sabotaged wish of a dream come true?  Or a false faith in a force of fate
and love over hate from a God of make-believe with a trick up his sleeve
and customized suffering created by me . . .Wait! . . .By me?
But why?  I’m so tired!
Tired of the ache, of waking up over and over when the era of my life that
mattered is already over!  Now I’m only sober . . . and older.
Alone and bitter with guilt; hiding behind shame from the one lesson meant
to pull me up from the allegorical purge. I’ve felt it and fought the urge.
Tired from circling meaninglessly around forgiveness; a moth around a fire
and yet denying desire to fall, burn, surrender the weight and idiot suffering
of a life gone wrong, held down, torn up and drowned.
I’m tired enough to have given up on giving up; I don’t want to return!
Let all that I’ve done fall and burn!
Let me rest in the void-black silence and breathe my last breath,
to shed the skin of Self and welcome Death, the illusion of bliss
and rest from the customized suffering which led me to this . . .

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