Tiny Bleak Theory by Paul J. Ennis

“I no longer know. The bleakness extends into my very bones. How do you etch it out? Do this, do that. No, no hope. Yes, the bleak are weak, but the optimists make me feel weaker with each dash of hope. How can you know it is nothing and yet still expect it will work out? Who is madder? The bleak or the hopeful? It’s hard to tell. My body is dying. I do not know how, but I feel it. It is not something I never expected, but there it is. No future, as they say. There is no future. Blinking lights and a sup of this or that. Or maybe something fancier. Each day I wake and there is only one thought: turn off that alarm. Standing at a funeral the other day I was asked if death was final. I responded that if it were not it would be the worst of all possible nightmares. Imagine cessation; only to wake again. Snooze button. Only for a time nobody can encounter. My dream: I do not wake. My nightmare: I wake for it all to begin again.‘What are you?A writer, I suppose. A crippled, terrible one, but so be it. I can resist nothing. Vice, whatever, do not pretend you do not know what I mean. Hungry eyes, ecological disaster, even the “well-off ” subsist. This is our world and, to be blunt, there is nothing good here. Sometimes a smile awakens me. Solace. The rest: I have no words for it. A common question:‘
why are you so negative?’
The honest answer is the trees, the rot, the city, the pain in mind and body. Change your attitude, they say. No, change yours. If you believe this can be fixed, this world of total emptiness, then, good for you. As for me, I wish only for one vision that cannot occur: to see the Sun eviscerate this ghost planet. Why write when you are already dead and yet…”

more @ https://www.academia.edu/15232561/Tiny_Bleak_Theory

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