Wednesday, January 12, 2022

It’s a losing proposition.

Delving into others’ souls and expecting even a twinge of acknowledgment. Forget about it.
I cannot listen to any more excuses as I try to navigate a globe of self-introspection and self-doubt.
Thinking you have a real connection with someone will always bite you in the ass because even real people are rarely present.

Learned a long time ago even being the bigger person doesn’t mean the plank you’re walking is a two way street.
That goes double if your intellect is as sharp as a hatpin, popping everyone’s vapid balloon of snapdragon synergy.
Your intentions may be the gold standard and still alchemy ain’t for losers in a metaphysical world of don’t you dares.

Touched the hot stove at my Aunt Hilda’s and though I remember how my finger hurt I still oftentimes will jump into the flames because a curious cat will never learn to steer clear from another’s bubbling cauldron of duress.
Call it reckless or careless behavior while I believe I have a calling having everything to do with pressing my ear against the wall of a humanity forever bleeding and breeding discontent and misinformation.

It’s a losing proposition walking out onto the edge and actually expecting anyone to notice the grand and oftentimes stupid gestures you make.
Doctors may have a God complex while poets have a people complex meaning they will attempt to connect with people who want simply to be left alone.
I knocked on the door and when there was no answer I scurried away like a king rat or great magician.

Charles Cicirella

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