The Fall; Passions and alienations

These days it seems so inescapable, I feel changed, so blatant, so vulgarly obtuse.
Inescapably obtuse.
Sticking to a group of hundreds of people who I wished not to be, unwittingly; slowly
I hate this self-imposed, alienating restriction.
I miss being in the background
taking notes,
mulling,
breathing; I have space to breathe
not when the weight of my mind is on my chest, dead weight, formerly
other people’s weight
that I could take up
and let go of when I
dared.
How could I change so quickly (or better, who do I blame?),
I don’t want to ask.
Thoughts only bring trouble, yes;
Knowledge is power, but knowledge is sticky, a bog of clues and contraries,
facts that are pulling me in until my ankles weep,
knees bend,
hip bones stay static in a pool of discontented entrails
of soggy cured skins.
Yes, what better than to drown! a choking splutter on a dying word,
A word, sweet, soft, serpentine,
Whisper;
Original sin, final pride,
An enticing invitation to
another
world,
of which there’s no return;
but to thy self enthrall’d

The Fall; Passions and alienations

kossimarsalsa

Oak Park, Australia

  • Artist
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Artist's Description

Reactions of despair to intense inadequacies, the usual.

xx
s-a

Artwork Comments

  • Thomas Ingram
  • kossimarsalsa
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