A Sarcastic Fallacy

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All Writing done by A. J. Berges unless otherwise noted.

Choose Life

Wake up.
Brush your teeth,
Comb your hair,
Hide your insecurities
And wash your regret.

Clock in.
Know your place
And stand before the wall.
Should you blink,
Should you stutter,
I can only hope that
You’d know better.
Stand up straight
And remember your numbers,
Repeat them like prayers
Until they resemble letters.
Swallow that sound
And forget that nonsense
That spills from your head.
If you’re such a dreamer
Then take this pen
And draw me a future
Where I don’t wish every moment
Would end with me dead.

Clock out.
Crawl to your cage
And count how fast
The shadows spiral.
Swell in the static
And bow down your head
To the silence that screams
From your bed
And promises you a new life
Of this leather that’s sewn with regret
And this conscious that constantly
All your integrity and sanity thin,
Let the gravity conquer your eyes
And the melancholy rampage inside.

Breathe in.
And fall into the paper,
Where I swear to you
That you can forget this.
Grab my hand and
Guide the brush,
If for a second,
We need not rush.
Line with your dreams
And shade with your love.
The strife is a moment
But it’s not enough
To drown out the valor
And stifle your tongue.
So scream now with vigor
And refuse to give up.

Breathe out.
And move on with the boulder.
Revel in your achievement
With every advance,
Despite the return
And the folly at hand;
Life is a ruin
That I’d rather have.

Lashes Sewn Shut

If they laugh, if they rage, if they fight
Because their sound-sleep of night
Has been broken by the lonely soul
That does not dream,
He only sees
That they’re all sleep-walking into a hole;
Then let them fall. 
But the one who is awake
Will just walk in the shadows,
Wade in the Lethe lakes,
And search for something—
Just to dream!
To at least in some way
Feel as if they’ll say
That he is finally welcome,
That they can perish together.


He will scream
And try his
Best to save
Whatever is left
Of those who
Are drawn into
The pleasing Abyss

And he will face the fact that he is alone. 

Idealistic Pessimism

Memories aren’t all what they used to be,
But never more than what one couldn’t see
With sewn eyes to masks and mirrors.
Yet you never saw life clearer,
Did you?

Chasing butterflies without intent
Aside crushing the wings of the misfortunate.
That one idea is something seductive;
To remain in a cage, completely unproductive
I see your bondage to your own hand.

"I’m glad that I’ll never see you again" 
Said the lips to the liquor.

But this, this flesh, this body
Shall grow anything but stagnant.
This void is mine to hoist and to reign,
Repercussions all the same.
And once never more;
No less compost than a whore.

I’m glad that I’ll never see you again,
Nor this whole pen,
Whether now, then, or ever,
The opaque knows its flaw
When it acts as a mirror.
So now I must ask,
Have you yet to see clearer?
Do you?