When you die

When you die, you will still be hungry.
Isn’t that a bitch?
A death like circles and rocks and gravity.

Nothing in this world can quench your thirst. Or the next world (So you can fuck off with your god bothering nonsense and enjoy the cold, the dark, the silence you tossers). I’d tell you that you’re like a circle, except you’d think I was making a crack about your weight. I’m not, but you’d still make that unimpressed face that people make when you try to share a dream and they realise that they’ve stepped in dog shit as the cosmic scales immediately compensate for real human interaction. Circles.

I was never very good at sympathy.

Do you ever wish you could go back?
You were ignorant there too; the future was a mysterious then as it is now. Time is cruellest on our faces and most forgiving on our memories. You said that once.
You can’t live in the now either, it’s all fear, tragedy and mundane desire
Do you wish you could rush forward? Diving but never falling. You didn’t say that, but I bet you would have if you had thought of it.

I wish that things would end, cleanly, like stories, or TV shows or poems with a beginning, middle and end.
But all things repeat. Rhymes, TV shows, seasons, history.
Can you name me a thing that doesn’t repeat?
Snow flakes and arseholes?

I could live around my life. Could I? Could I live my life a few feet away from my body? Maybe that’s not living; maybe it’s not even existing. You are like a rock. Hard and sharp. You said that once, or maybe I did. Or maybe it was Stacey, that girl you knew who always got drunk at parties and looked like she would cry if only she could summon up a half decent reason, but her life is bland and dull. Neither hot nor cold.

You know… Stacey. Medium height, bad skin, ok teeth. Well, not bad-bad skin. Comparatively bad skin. Maybe you stoned your ugly friends.

I’m joking. Don’t make that face. Please.

What is unique anyway? Not people. Have you ever been in shopping centre and realised that they’re all the same? Same small lives and consumer spending habits. We’ve profiled you from your spending on your crazy cash card and, for your convenience of course, decided that you might be interested in the upcoming special offers on the following items:


Act now! They won’t last! For a limited time! You need it! We need you! Happiness is impossible to acquire! You must chase it! Now! Now! Now! Just look how absorbent it is! Dry away those tears of boredom. For three easy payments of a focus group determined price we will promise you happiness for the fleeting instant you receive our over packaged semi-recyclable parcel (included in the price of postage and handling) and you will look into the face of god and find it plastic and cheap.

I know you’re tired.

I’m tired too.

Remember that time we went out for breakfast and it was sunny and everyone was out and about? It was early but so crowded. You looked at me and said
“I’m suffering”
I pretended not to know what you meant, but I did.
I am without hunger and I suffer.
It gnaws at me and weighs me down.

We are not suffering; we are merely weighed down by a burden that we can not release. Purpose is the last hunger, but you can’t buy a purpose. You can substitute with a job or children or the minutes of the regional orchid fancier and breeder association (First division). Acid for your soul. Or a relationship. You could substitute a relationship.

“What doesn’t kill me will make me stronger” you didn’t say that, or me. It was Nietzsche.
Nietzsche! Not Stacey!
You’re not even listening. Yes he was a tosser too. No I never read any of his stuff. Did you? I’m pretty sure it was Nietzsche. We’re agreed on that at least. I suspect he was never actually bothered by gravity. Lifted up on the wings of a vague feeling of intellectual superiority, until he flew too close to the sun, only to have his wings melt; and come crashing down as a badly translated quotation.

Consigned to mugs and stickers and small signs to put up in the office kitchenette “Wash your own dishes, Nietzsche doesn’t work here”. The kind you find in discount stores that sell crap you never want. Those shops where you feel vaguely aware that you believe that the bad karma of sweat shop production is bound to seep into the products and then leak their misery out into your home or workplace like a drum of toxic psychic energy. You could always go around to the new age shops and buy some pretty crystals though, to shed your karmic weight.

So this is how our hope ends.
Circles, rocks, gravity
Circles, rocks, gravity
Circles, rocks, and gravity
Not with a bang but a discount.


Author: Joseph

Writer, educator, and bon vivant.