We can tell truth or speak lies whether in private or in public and some would be none the wiser. I would like to think that as thinking reasoning people we are more than capable of sniffing out bullshit, and whenever possible neutralizing it straight away. There are moments when you know something is not quite right, but you cannot put your finger on it. Sometimes you get so caught up you forget about it, or perhaps as we tend to get caught up in our lives, we simply do not care enough. That is until the notion of something obscene tries to skid by unnoticed. Or someone tries to pull the wool over our eyes, and claim us too stupid to realize it. Deceit the tampering of the spirit, and soul. Betrayal the constant wheel that turns hearts cold.

So much is lost in translation, there are way too many players trying to play the game. It is no wonder idealism has been reduced to a fairy tale. Not the stuff of practical men of course. It is something out of touch, outdated, a bit ridiculous. It is more acceptable to play a realistic game of hide, and go seek.

I live in a permanent state of anger. I may smile, laugh, and cry, but that anger is still there. It is like a splinter that is edged deeply within me. No matter the attempt to remove it, it stays put. So I get on with it, and sometimes I can almost fool myself into believing it is no longer there. You touch the area and it doesn’t pain you, you press down a little harder, and there it is. A sigh of relief that you are not crazy. You laugh a little and you store it, safeguard it, reflect on it, even pitch a tent round and about it. You remember it, and you never forget the day it entered your domain.

You sometimes celebrate the day of, and on other days you ignore it. Strange little relationship develops with it so much so that it becomes a fuck buddy, a false consciousness, even gives me a little rev. There is a bit of thankfulness found in it, for it makes way for a healthy dose of self awareness. Yes, it is there and it keeps my steps from faltering. Full regression is interrupted, with a full disclaimer of the possibility to commence.

I am sick and tired of the strangled noise of privilege, and the extreme measures used to keep a certain few happy. It feels as though we have been reduced to being casualties of war. What is the sense of all of this? Have we been condemned to always look backwards? Am I? All the chatter, and all these garbled messages. It would be so easy to be overcome by all of it. Lies or truth we need an escape route. Perhaps our escape is found in passion and standing in our truth. The likelihood for survival is considerably higher. Being able to live with oneself is what matters most.