here\'s to nothing

it seems odd that so much difficulty should have arrisen from my intention to not do a thing. i am quite possessed of the talent of idleness. yet, in this endevour, my brain, it screams at me. as if it is privy to information that i am not. "you can't do this. it will fail like all the others. why try?" and many other things to foolish to add ( not that those weren't foolish, just that i don't want to give them voice).    to what end is this going to go? forever? that is what scares me the most. the nightmare in which, as a youth, one goes to school without clothes, yet there are clothes to be had at some point. i feel as if atop the precipice of some horrible ride at the worst fair ever, and the demonic carnie in control will not let the ride just fucking drop, or bgin, or whatever devilish trauma he has in store for me, the one idiot foolish enough to get thinned out from the herd. nude, desolate, destitute, screaming maniacly, shrilly, and to no one.   what the hell is there, i ask? not just to sobriety, but life. the bastards seem to have given the lunatics free reign on this one. twisted humors where one's greatest love ends up as one's greatest hate. where the guards turn out to be the inmates and with one last rotten throat laugh echoing down the halls i realize i'm one of them and have to help. not succeed, not conquer, not win the daywith triumphal overtones, but just be.     and i guess at the end of the day, seek out not that which will feed me to the dirt, but search once again for the angels mysterioiusly wandering, rarely to be seen, afraid of being seen for to glimpse them is knowledge. knowledge of the beauty and light and life gifted.that the horrors on these shores are soon to be washed out with the tide. that there are indeed angels to carry you home when the world becomes a strange place, and at the end of the tunnel there is a light and in that light is the warmth of a home where the forgiveness forever sought awaits.