It’s kind of a funny story, really. Of being choked by a thick atmosphere of desperation whilst drowning my sorrows and thinking about a girl. Of being surrounded by a veritable confederacy of dunces, alone without you. Musing on how love will tear us apart when we’re whom the bell tolls for, when the cracks appear in our bell jar and this one great thing of ours floods out. Fear and loathing will lend its dark touch to all and everything, both flesh and not. The sunflowers will wilt and fall to the chilly earth. The islands in the stream will be blasted into oblivion. The intense humming of evil will infest your brain and lead to aneurysm. And once we’re cleansed of all this, when the sun also rises on this new dawn and we misfits walk this private ground between the winter trees, we’ll call out from the holy bible and scream to a sigh. Nevermind the old disorder. We’ll say our farewells to arms we’ve held before and launch ourselves into love’s sweet exile once again, determined to stay beautiful forever more.
This was originally an attempt to write a poem by the title of ‘Atmosphere’ for an upcoming competition. In the end I said ‘fuck it’ and wrote it as a more rambling monologue. Kudos if you can read between the lines.