Desire

What to do

How to live,

Where to go

How to be.

Hence y'always come. After a time of indulgence and pleasure, sensuality and escape, hedonism and euphoria. The meaninglessness floods. Consequence drowns the joy. After a time, of beauty and lawlessness, sought that knoweth no boundaries. Feeling that seeketh no limits, The meaninglessness Floods.

Have done all things have become even more, Oscar Wilde excess to the core. In love and violence have I sought. Ecstacy came but no meaning was found, maybe that speaketh of something profound.   

(For every morning I wake up with the throbbing of a previously intoxicated head, the memories of a weightless existence, the regret of an optionless man. After a night of rush expedience, maybe beautiful form lies next to me, but the urge is gon, the af'math has come. And am filled with the melancholy of a flame extinguished, a darkness anything but diminished. A nostalgia of sorts, trying to think of the next sought, for the last gone worked naught. Attempting to understand what I'm living for. Drink and sexual pursuit, romantic and greedy expectation. Dreams of elevation or revelation, though I know they be vain still)

For after it all, after a night as a glorious fall, I come back to the same pit I sought to escape. And the same question beckons still. As a sea of waters attempted to be disturbed , with a rush of stirring trying to distract, yet they be calm again. And the shallows are clear as day, and they at the depth, show the same concern…..

What to do

How to live?

Where to go,

How to be?

As a stoic cynical monk, a diogenes of sorts. No, my desire as a flame still on it burns. As the hedonist libertine folk, a fairly young corpse. A vanity of vanities prevails in them both. Escape is well nigh not known, which is the most noble of all?

How do we love in a world where rules seek to repress, their abolition brings but a bloody chaotic mess, and we're left at a mighty, dangerous edge. There, a rope tightly knit, at the path of life and death. Death isn't fun, neither is lack and gloat. I attempt to leave my hideous past, oh! My flesh groans, my heart aches and my head throbs. Beauty all around me I see….beauty all around me I seek! But I have it and my soul shall not be still.

As a rowdy thrifty will, does it exist, or free? Denial naught, blind sought I desire also naught. I wish not to relive the battles I've already fought. The dignity I've lost, but seek not regret, disdain to gain. Is it either repression or in-expression? Unless you should find a greater path in the rivers of divine grace?

Desire, desire, desire…..                                                                          When shall you leave me? What shall I replace you with. Why won't you let me be all free? I'll meditate on the question of how I should be. In the vain quest for a life of meaning.     

desire, desire, desire….  

A thousand tales I have of you and I. Oh what a friend you've been since a child. A constant companion, a creepy scheming pester. A manipulative, deceptive never any better. Not a very good friend you've been, but a friend still.

(Sensitive paragraphs withheld….)

Desire, desire, desire…..

A thousand tales I have of you and I, all the times you've had me lie, all the times you've left me to fry. All you've brought is pain and regret, all I sought was gain and relief. Was as a drunk man drinking to my fill, as one who needed it to live.

When the thirst was gone, so was I, so was my soul. When the lust has died, so have I. God beckons, consequence follows, and so does the reckon. So far gone, forlorn, dismayed in sojourn. Pray child, for thowest knows no other way.

What to do,

How to live.

Where to go,

How to be?

And maybe there's a fifth concern,             Why to even be any as such.

Regards,

The repentant hedonist whose only aspiration was to be an enlightened spiritual stoic.