In the Aftermath

Hard to admit, but once again in the same circumstance. You would think that after everything there would be progress, but the prevailing winds have brought back the human happenstance. There was the wind-up, the sales pitch, not unlike the squadron of parasites roaming the circuits, the wires, the satellite network airwaves in search of a commission, entering your home through an earpiece uninvited, offering you a service that sounds so complete...

But one you do not need.

It would be so attractive, so enticing, were it not the fact that...I have been here too many times before. And here, post-purchase, oh it looked so much more colorful so much more complementary to this fast fix easy fix gratify instant lunch on the run super glue, drying in only 17 seconds, than it did when I got it home.

Do the fallen angels earn a percentage every time I fail?
Do they sit in boardrooms, charting my transgressing habits?
Do they get raises for meeting their quotas?

The desire gives birth to fruition, which gives birth to the empty, which gives birth to guilt which gives birth to dissatisfaction, which gives birth to a hunger for more.

We have been here before.

So in the aftermath I sit on the sidelines once more. Knowing I don't have to return. Knowing there is something more.

It is the cry of my heart...to be anywhere but here.



by Andrew Schwab, from his book Do Not Disturb