Updated: Apr 9
Sometimes, I feel as if I’ve been alone my entire life,
with no one to share my deepest feelings.
A solitary being.
Searching, for one true friend.
Another deep soul whose words would be a reflection of my own.
I read Nietzsche for a sense of companionship.
Thinking, he would be the only one who could understand me.
Though he would probably call me a wretched fool or,
perhaps at best,
an exceptional man who missed his way and deteriorated.
Sometimes, I try to release my pain through writing and poetry,
Though, I’m not a good poet or writer.
I look around my cell and I have nothing
My world is a barren concrete wasteland.
I haven’t see my son in four years.
I was with him everyday before I got locked up.
No one to talk to,
No friend to turn to when I’m sad.
No one to cry to when I’m lonely.
I say to myself that I’m not one of the herd
So No one can possible understand me.
Perhaps, It’s just that no one wants to understand me.
I think about God.
Then, I think about God.
And my mind drifts to the gods.
I think of death.
If I’m executed, will anyone claim my body?
Who will decide if my glasses are left on or off?
I’d like to live until age 65, or maybe 73.
My son would be 51 then.
We could both laugh about how we’ve grown to be old men.
I’d want to be buried in Switzerland.
Close to ma dềese Suisse.
My ashes tossed into the wind . . .
The breeze that blows through Sils Maria,
Where Nietzsche met Zarathustra.
I would then carry myself to Montagnola,
to discuss life, love, freedom, and death. Despair . . .
I gain no comfort from religion or dogma.
Demian and Siddhartha only bring temporary peace to my troubled and tortured soul. Sleep is my only sanctuary.
In sleep I soar through the night, with Freedom as my companion.
Twisting, whirling, kissing the clouds.
Then, I’m awakened by the Beast.
I stand on the edge of a cliff.
Looking down, into the cold, black abyss.
The Beast beckons, “Come forth, I am your only friend. I am your Master, your god. Worship me, give me your soul!”
The rocks crumble, the night wind blows,
I slip . . . Away from the abyss I fall, away from the Beast’s embrace.
The Lord of the Runes has saved me.
His voice comes with the wind,
“Know pain and suffer as I suffered, hanging, on the great World Ash.
But, do not let solitude be your demise.”
All is silent.
No longer any voice to comfort me.
No longer any guidance for my pain.
Abandoned and helpless.
I don’t know what else to do.
I’m lonely and I feel terribly, horribly and completely