Tonight I have nothing but disappointment. It washes over me in tempestuous waves. One wave begats another. At the core of my being I am paralyzed with the stench of my own failure. The words don’t come. My voice is drowned out in the chorus of negativity that rains on me constantly. Each drop stings my flesh, leaving me to take refuge in garbage situational comedies and political gossip; the meditative, vapid humor calms my damaged nerves. The nothingness is a salve to my wounded soul. I crawl in a ball in the middle of the bed and gaze vacantly at the prisms of stupidity displayed in Ultra 4k. It is so much easier than finding 200 errant words to express this gaping hole in my thinking. It is much easier to find mechanisms of leisure to placate the darkness that dwells in me. I need internet porn and cotton candy. I need a marathon of Lockup and meaningless text messages. It would make it all so much easier. I could wrap all my hopes and dreams into the local professional sports team and ignore the trench warfare being waged in my heart. It is all so disappointing, and yet somehow I found two hundred words.
Jasper Kerkau 9/11/16