Albert Camus

https://perdidasmusas.blogspot.com/2017/03/existentialism-myth-of-sisyphus-albert.html?m=1

Friendship as a Confession

I must say...
Disrespect is the ultimate illusion.
I find myself in a definitive demographic.
Where my senses meet virtual reality.
A place where in my most sacred sense,
I have a theory about almost everything.
A sad place in my heart that hurts, but
Does not want to hurt back.
After death comes my funeral,
I wonder - I wonder.
How - how will I be remembered.
It becomes a question.
Of what am I made.
Whereas, in this sad place in my heart.
At what point did friends become strangers.
In this predicament...
Who are (or in this case were)
My real friends.
The kids who years passed...
Do not pretend to forget you,
But fail to ignore you.
Instead, those you once thought
Had your back.
Now treat you like a complete stranger.
Rather than find peace in your company.
Now that we've become adults.
That fake filter consumes you.
Not like that before.
My insides turn.
Before you turned me off.
What a poor poor defense mechanism.
Now we're no more.

Rights of Passage

There is something missing in me today.
I've had strange dreams lately,
The kind where I disappear.
Then I reenter from one place to the next.
It seems I am lost.
More so a feeling of being lost.
Lost never to be found somewhere in a distant past,
Just wanting to hold on but it feels impossible to.
As warped and morbid as this sounds...
I find peace here.
And that is all I can be.
Is a warrior of peaceful thoughts
And the victory of mind.

Precision and its Density

Precision and its Density

I'm not a gambler, but for myself if I must say so not being a gambler would imply I refuse to bet against the odds.
The truth is I bet against myself more often than I gamble.
But gambling is nothing.
Nothing more than an investment gone terribly bad.
So gaming to me is a very fragile thing.
I am not much of a player.
I've had too much to overcome.
Maybe it's a cause of having been unconsciously programmed into being.
So now that I presumably know that about myself,
an answer is less trivial.
However,
upon this metaphysical journey of mine,
maybe I am just a sinner at heart.
Corrupting my soul....
Is an unhealthy exercise.
Though putting my soul on fire.
That is a question worth the gamble.
The game has its odds.
And I always bet against myself.
Because everything has a reward.
The devil has ways of orchestrating it.
Although my many demons I have met,
never truly owned me.
They are physical enough entities that I feel
the betrayal from winning and losing.
And I have never been either of these things.
I prefer the animal kingdom.
Where in my trial and error,
my feet are a blaze.
And the game changes almost metaphorically,
metaphysically lying to myself.
Conscious of betting against myself, constant.
Wondering where I went wrong.
In this messy messed up life.
The attempt to defend myself - as it hardens,
is not an assassin looking at himself in the mirror temporarily speaking.
This soul I set on fire.
I want to know what that feels like.
I want to.
To set my soul on fire.
Watching me gamble from afar.
Though no greater distance between a devils romance.
Like fire in my soul.