Vermis Meridiem

More Stars than There are

Month: October, 2015

Old Excerpts

“Like most of the others, I was a seeker, a mover, a malcontent, and at times a stupid hell-raiser. I was never idle long enough to do much thinking, but I felt somehow that my instincts were right. I shared a vagrant optimism that some of us were making real progress, that we had taken an honest road, and that the best of us would inevitably make it over the top.

At the same time, I shared a dark suspicion that life we were leading was a lost cause, that we were all actors, kidding ourselves along a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between these two poles––a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other––that kept me going.”

—H.S.T.

Backtracking

Paying a visit to particular, neglected artifacts, you couldn’t help but to have noticed a person behind their marks of past usage—prints from a younger pair of hands.

After having been away for ages, remnants of another time was refreshing, yet you couldn’t have help but to have felt thoroughly estranged at their sights.

They are comprised of words, methods, and thoughts of an entirely separate man, someone once at the dawn of his making—energized, humorous, and light-heartedly sarcastic—ambivalent of his future endeavors yet managed to enjoy that lack of clarity with ease.

As you sifted through the pages and retraced the steps that, at the time being taken, seemed inconsequential—curtains were drawn and the illusion set in, history regained vitality, and you began sensing the former vigor filling your present network of veins.

And so drastically different was this old essence—in fact, so rejuvenating and bright and untamed it felt—that you were overcome and rendered irretrievably deplorable by it: this blood has become foreign.

That certain green air which you once carried, no longer suited so nicely as your natural skin—as they were.

As frequently as you enforce (reassuringly) upon yourself the notion that age has left you unscathed, in the face of solid, tangible vestiges of a fresher man—who has been left behind in between the old pages—you are helplessly, helpless, for they hold firm and irrefutable proof that, you too, have inevitably aged.

 

.

.

.

 

**Comic Relief:

 

“fuck.

 

agh…UGH. 

 

—whatever.”

Connotations of Work

“No, I don’t like work. I had rather laze about and think of all the fine things that can be done. I don’t like work—no man does—but I like what is in the work, the chance to find yourself; your own reality—for yourself, not for others—what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means.”

—Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness.

Attempting to Organize & Regain Control

Crossroad & Evening Rain

STOP grossly exaggerated by rain-soaked asphalt.

STOP grossly exaggerated by rain-soaked pavements.

Bad Weather

“Fill me up

Then

Leave me to die”

In The Dark + Self Understanding

Feeling most reassured when I feel nothing at all.

                          Feeling most reassured when I feel nothing at all.

Paradoxical Itch

“Remarkable, most people blunder around the city and all they see are streets and shops and cars….you see the battlefield. You’ve seen it already, haven’t you?

You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand. Your therapist thinks it’s post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you’re haunted by memories of your military service…Fire her. She’s got it the wrong way around.

You’re under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady. You’re not haunted by the war…you miss it (whispers). Welcome back.”

—M.H.

Ode to Fellow Aquarius

First curious glance,
A definite presence—
Not flauntingly
Conspicuous,
Vain, or
Cheaply lustrous,

But glaring
As ink
On Snowy,
Unsoiled canvas—

Every distinctive drop
Seeping, immutably
Solidifying onto
Untouched fibers
Of remembrance.

Never a dull
Moment
Persists with you—

Sprightly, animated,
Keen, and poignant;
Bottom of despair—
A Tragic
Iconoclast.

Oh yes,
I see
And
I know,

Out from
A concealed
Vase pours
Your tenuous
Yet
Unbound
Kindness—

Dearly,
You dare
To love all
Earthly kin.

For the very multitude
That is
Exclusively
You,

Sole
Fellow Aquarius,
I love,
Applaud,
And remain
A loyal audience
To you—

For this precisely,
I must learn
To once so often,
Love to Hate
You so.

Habits in the Rain