Saturday, 14 January 2017

Are we done yet?

When is it over?
How does it end?
Why did it even begin?

Where's that book I read back in school. I'm sure it's all in there.

Have I left it on the shelf, many homes ago.
Maybe, I never actually read it.
That's why I don't remember.
Yes that must be it. 

All is left is a few short lines. Not more than thirty, I reckon. And that includes the blank lines, too.
A cheap ending, really.
And written in some primitive English, too. No drama.
The occasional banal typographical device. A flush-right, stuff like that.  Pathetic.
Some include multiple sentences. But all very short, like lazy epitaphs.
You can't scroll down on an epitaph, can you. Has got to be short.
And those rhetorical questions, without even the question mark.
No, no self. The last motion shouldn't really be an inward motion. Everybody else does that. Selfies. Hate selfies. Love or hate them, really.
Two sides, always two sides. Simple. I am on the side of those who hate selfies.
Another bold statement! Had to be said. Feel like I'm finally finding my place. Feels natural.

So, maybe a blue horizon, subtly suggesting something to someone, pointing onwards.
A cheap rhetorical figure. Tempering cynicism with fake optimism.

Ready. Wash me away.