Not the Great Pretender

Call it a faux pas, a jest in poor taste, or poor judgment. Disastrous decisions and a severe lack of character are the flaws, the fractured systems of cracks in our sociocultural humanity. This is how worst-case scenarios evolve and happen haphazardly. It’s the same way; it always plays out to the showstopper ending. No bangs, zero booms, not even a whimpered sigh. Never any bold proclamation or false promises. The last gasp of a lifetime barely lived in an insane world.

Surely everything exists in this isolated, single solitary moment. Whether you can see it or not is irrelevant. Everything exists in a mysterious cosmic state of being. All the mediocre achievements of a civilized society amount to nothing. It was this way before the invention of a constructed timeline. An artificially-manufactured change of imperceptible increments from micro, millisecond fractals at the present point of your rehearsed lines. Set your clock to a heartbeat.

A straightforward timeline in a single day of too many days. Just how many hours in a day, week, month, and year compounded and multiplied in a story of now. Mixing past, present, and future events in the mind’s eye is unclear to the subconscious observer. The dubious distinction of time passing by is fleeting. It could be every occurrence in a lifetime unfolding at once. But thinking  we have time down, we capitulate to whims, trifles, tricks, and fancies. It’s pre-planned and synchronized, where old events meet new ones. The fates never go down easy, the same way at the precise moment you realize it.

The true nature conceals the facts and evidence behind past shared experiences, and everybody knows it eventually. Who do we believe to be, and who are the strangers we meet along the primrose path to enlightenment or the darkest alleys of ignorance? Even perceived reality has choices that can change beliefs, making them open for debate, arguing over what’s real or not. Who knows? Certainly none of us. We muddle through and never know the outcome of our lives until the end. Finished with quaint pleasantries.

Marionette gyrations of spooky actions in your face at close range. Just around the corner. At the brink of extinction into the abyss. Getting intimate and too personal, touching off sparks of neutrons and protons bouncing. Pinball nerves on a precipice. A funkified stimuli of regurgitating bodily functions. It’s a putrid act of futility. People like us. Frail and fragile exoskeletons afloat in a gooey sea, off gassing guts, excremental bodily waste accumulated from tainted flesh.

Strut and prance upon the stage of your one-act play. On rare occasions, change masks like week-old underwear. After an eternity, growing accustomed to the smell. The body’s a filthy temple. Ignoring the dialogue as originally written. Before birth revisited and hastily chronicled after death. The ever-changing player’s unwritten script stays eerily unchanged. The motives are unknown. The actors change their costumes. Leave behind a pretty corpse. A rotation of the same species lined up for the hit parade. The heavenly disc jockey on the airwaves of time, on schedule and ready to play the mortal name game of replay songs. Who are we? Why are we here? Nobody wants to know.

The gates of hell are always open. It’s a long journey to the bowels of your exclusive ready-made inferno. The heavenly gates indefinitely closed and locked tight. Nobody goes in or out. Stuck in a multi-dimensional revolving door of the unconscious inner sanctum. Taking the golden escalator down to the fire pits. Nosedive into the elevator shaft of an Off Broadway production.

Mere coincidence or preordained strategy. The ways of the world stage are stranger than the fiction of the human conditions theater. A conundrum. Some sort of fantasy in the dream sequence of another grand finale. The final act never fails. Frauds galivanting about in our Sunday best. Looking sharp and snappy. A smart wave hello with royal aplomb. The make-believe fairy tale of that same old song and dance routine without dialogue. Break down the barriers of the masquerade’s charade. Go through the motions. Behind the curtain wearing your masks proudly with conviction and mock emotions. Don’t try to act. Improvise every scene, pick up the pace and go on with the show.