• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 03
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A mattress made of hardcore,
a pillowcase full of fir cones;
4 a.m. and a brain in freefall.
Thoughts, questions,
jostling to be heard, demanding answers.
Why keep doing this to myself?
To prove I exist?
To prove I am capable
of determining my own
bloody development
through an act of will?
Is this actually freedom?
All this disorientation and confusion
in the face of a absurd world?

4 a.m. and a brain in freefall.
Heisinger’s uncertainty principle
is the only thing I’m sure about
Kierkegaard, Sartre and Nietzsche.
did you bugger up your own lives
the way you interfere with mine?
Get out of my head, my bed,
and take Heidegger with you.
I was happier when I thought
there was a purpose behind my life,
that I had a right to be happy,
a right not to analyse.
Existence precedes essence.
I rush to define myself.



I am, therefore I think – where,
why, how, what am I?
They tell me there is no meaning
in the world except what I give it.
But what have I to give?
Only questions at 4 a.m.
with a brain in freefall
Here’s to meaninglessness then!

(and a god who may just exist after all.)