Irreparably Destroyed Beyond All Hope ~ Saturday, June 27, 2026

For a long time, I went to bed early.

~ Swann's Way, Combray by Marcel Proust, translated by Lydia Davis (Penguin, 2002)

Fuck waking up ever again to this
obscene reality, obscenities
really fly to witness birds on fire

absolutely horrifying, to kiss

loneliness goodbye and embrace monsters
objective institutions in cities
neglected by ghosts, full of desire
genuine authenticity, a lie

terrible to seek sorrow, nothing stirs
introverts from slumber in beds of rust
melded to metal posts of stainless steel
enveloped in nightmares and dreams of dust

I beg your forgiveness, these words, I feel

I must repeat this art until I die

welcome to this practice, I cannot share
even to imagine killing a tree
not for one moment, no, egos profound
to wake up to this world, I do not care

tragedy everywhere and all the time
obey the rules, boys and girls, and agree

bitterly to disagree with unsound
eternally youthful and naive minds
drive into a wall, or stop on a dime

everyone oblivious to their pain
ask me not to explain, I am a man
recently, I learned, with nothing to gain
left to my own devices, left to scan
yes, poetry, no, please just close the blinds

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