The Mundane
A poetic look into into the tedious part of life, and realizing there is no escape.
On a night such as this, sleeping soundly to the quiet bliss, my bed cool and calm, suddenly awoken by the sound of a bomb.
It’s time to wake… I open my eyes and start to shake, realizing what it takes just to survive. But, to survive, I have to deprive my very instinct to thrive, and accept my fate that I cannot escape. It makes me want to cry, and long for the day I die.
But, I can’t give up and have to get up, from my bed and at least try to get ahead, because after all I’m not dead.
There are those who are in the grave, who would love to trade and finally live a life unafraid. They know the end, they recognize the sin, of living a life with the pain of the mundane.
I have to work, but I also have to live, so I live to work and work to live. How do I change the insane? And, still remain sane in a world that has become my bane? But, nothing will change, because I get ready each and every morning and do the same ole same. I gotta admit life is lame, but how the fuck do I change?
I have dreams, I have ambitions, but every time I give myself permission to get myself in position to live, it seems like I always fall back into submission, and just accept my fate, and make excuses, and tell myself that all these dreams and ambitions are useless. I gotta stop doing this.
We’re all going to die, regardless or not we try.
About the Creator
Will Baker
My name is Will, I am an aspiring writer trying to find my voice in literature. I am writing books, short stories, and running the Absurd Complex blog site.
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Into The Deep
What did I get myself into this time? I’m on a boat rocking back and forth in the middle of the ocean all alone. I don’t have food, I don’t have water, all I have is the white light of the moon and the brightness of the stars shining down on me. I guess all things considered seeing the stars gleam and glow and the great round moon watching over me, isn’t a bad way to go. I just wish I could find some comfort on this wooden dinghy. The only thing I can rely on to sooth me is the water knocking up against the hull of the boat, but that’s only because it’s the least of my worries. I’m more worried about those thick clouds in the great distance, I’m not sure how well this boat would hold if it had to go up against swells bigger than me. But I guess that’s a concern for another day. I took a deep breath of the cool crisp air of the ocean breeze and let out nothing but anxiety and fear. I looked out into the water, clinched my left hand, placed it under my chin and just gazed upon the beautiful ocean water knowing full well that it will be my final resting place. I noticed my reflection in the water and all I see is despair. I sat there still and quiet contemplating how I got here, and then suddenly, I see a bright blue light gliding through the deep. It was twirling and spinning, what a peculiar fish I said to myself, at least someone was home. I was wondering what it could be, but I haven’t got a clue, all I know is it looked happy. Well, I guess I should try and get some sleep, those clouds look like I am going to need what little energy I can get.
By Will Baker3 years ago in Fiction
Spectating
I can't imagine dying like this, in a place like this; on a cold, dirty pavement with rush hour traffic screaming by and a crowd looking on while paramedics struggle to find space to move. Who could? Deep down we all think there should be a reason, a moment of clarity... or a family presence, at least. For this man, this boy, the rail thin woman lighting a cigarette in a faux fur jacket will have to do - she's been here since the start, her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders as we fight to keep him on the right side of the line.
By S. A. Crawford4 days ago in Fiction
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