My optimism and hope are as sand through fingers;
the slow development of a soul-draining loneliness,
never seems to leave my side on nights such as these.

Loneliness gathers, one event at a time;
a combination of faceless memories and blurry recollections,
the significance of which died in their infancy, if they ever mattered.

Everything collides in slow-motion,
a mash-up of particles of hatred and guilt,
that form an ever-growing monster of destruction,
which threatens to tear my heart from my chest at any moment.

The weeping guitars and voices,
don’t fully capture the misery of this,
a combination of feelings set casually in motion,
by a series of indifferent factors with no relevance.

And nobody hears you,
not now, and not ever,
as the silent majority,
weeps alone,
untouched,
unloved,
and unheard.

We are getting old,
time will not forgive,
all our wasted moments,
even if we redeem ourselves,
because salvation is for fools,
and time marches on without a pause,
over our bones and the dust they will become,
with a great apathy and a general sense of progress,
whose inhumanity is only matched by the society we live in.

November 16, 2009