a very long time ago ,I first wrote this ,and sent it in a bottle. Now that it has been returned to me ,I am at a loss as to how this situation came to pass. The snowflakes that cloud my mind have become so obscure ; they have become almost like nothing.I recount this tale far too late,as I am of advanced years now and lack the motivation ; the drive,to achieve any goal I so wish to further my life. On this land (wherever I may be) is where I find myself to dwell ,as much as I hate my existence here ,I remain of my own volition. I have no wish to remain here,may I make it clear ,I wish for life no longer. Craving for the company of another,even so much as an animal I have not seen for years. So it would seem ,I am to remain a stain upon this planet ; nothing but an abnormality of life that has been banished to a land that has no place in this world. I do not wish to remain in this life ,so it would seem ,this is all life has to offer me. There appears to be no sense of purpose any longer,if humans would find themselves to my island ,I would be so happy to greet them ,or would I ? This place has been my own for the longest of times ,could an outsider spoil what life I have left ? Would they bring ruin to my isolation? They say that misery loves company; my isolation has now become part of who I am. Nothing remains for me ,save the emptiness of my life. It is doubtful,I reason,that I would have it any other way.As I embark upon another journey,I notice something out of place in the things which I wish to pack , there is something odd about how my possessions are arranged ,yet I cannot put my finger on what is wrong. I shrug that off for now,as I do not wish to be in the woods too late. I prefer early mornings so I can be alone with my thoughts. I have no wish to converse with others. Every day now rolls into one,I doubt there is much more I can say about this matter,perhaps it would be better to describe my life here. My hours of my life may seem (on the face of it) quite mundane ,but in fact my life is quite eventful. I hunt for my food ,I have fashioned rudimentary tools for that purpose, I feel as one with my natural surroundings. It almost seems as though I was meant to be here. I muse upon the fact that this is like Robinson Crusoe,the only difference being is that I would never leave. It is only the fact that I have been here alone for so long ,that I realised my true view on who I share the planet with. That of course all happened when I was alive. Every day that passes ceased to have any meaning a long time ago. Melded into one continuous moment . For me there isn’t even loneliness anymore.
dystopian idealism refuses to conform to reality. and thus liberation of the mind is born. dissatisfied.oppressed. no compromise.
©S J.C. 2022
New beginning.New life. No more death,other than my own.
My world is where I find myself. A simple reflection of my morality. The Angels that inhabit this place,feed off living flesh. It is the only way that they can survive…so all must die.
A desolate land ,and many mountains. The woodland is where the demons live. There is another land,which is underground.The sea is full of blood.
The origin of my world? I do not even know,nor do I wish to remember. I seek only to forget ,for I cannot get past how lonely I am.Am I the only human in this world? The angels they breed death ,yet I know that if I run from them , I will have to breach the bracken to free myself. The demons that are in there,so it is told,will not leave me. They will only accept my living heart in order that I may pass…It looks like whatsoever decision I make,I am fucked.