Giving in, Succumbing to Hate

A moment of terribleness. Set in homelessness;
Trapped here: some moments are unbearable.
When everything is too much.
No way out from it, buried alive by darkness.
One shuts down. darkened. anger. voices. steaming, seething vitriol. Real hate.
Surviving it is all one can do…..
But so hard is the moment it may just be beyond all control.

If a bullet in war has your name on it you are dead.
If the terribleness, here, wants to claim you, you are done for.
And for what…..for nothing…..what a sick joke was…is…your life…..what a waste. Senseless world. Terrible is life.
Terribleness here is to give in and be swallowed by the environment you are in.
Homelessness is chaos.
Homelessness is not to be part of society.
Chaos: a person cut off from civilisation. The street as a home is nothing but unstructured, uncertain chaos…….
To succumb to this is not to be human: You are the chaos.
Ravaged, done in by darkness….. no choice in these most terrible, hellish, moments of homelessness.

Squalor; degregation; isolation; aloneness:
It, it, it echoes in your hollowed out head. It is formless but it silently and seethingly echoes.
Tiredness turns to exhaustion and into complete flat out, run down, shatteredness.
Freezing cold (not a state, but your very being); hungry; the hell of strangers unendingly prying eyes.
No true nightime darkness; no dead of night silence……no peace, no quiet, no escape:
A shivering rump: Your former light ~ you hopes~ turned to pulp;
You are slime, putty in the hands of life’s terrible forces.

Little necessities of life are cut off to the homeless person.
In society these are taken for granted, it can never know ~ you are alone in this chaos.
How terrible these worst moments are.
The lack, the absence, of fundamentals, when they are there and everwhere, in normal life, makes no sense.
Its terribleness cannot be measured…..beyond observation…..it is a strain that rips one apart…. the pressure of it all piles up within.
It is felt. A slow strangulation: no one else knows what is happening, you scarcely do.
It frays the nerves.
On edge….. to go on in such degregation before long will claim you…..
Danger, insanity is coming.
Hate at this place turns against anyone and everyone: You hate yourself, you hate the world.
Life, what is the point…..
Hate is comforting…..
So terrible are these worst moments that your hate is your rock and your refuge.

One’s fragile, emotive nerves are not made for this grinding pounding,
Quite rightly.
It is not on.
Because it is not life:
You the little child that you are cannot stand that this should be what becomes of you….
Life was never meant to be like this…
Others may ruin themselves, but not you…
And yet, you can now feel yourself as vermin.
Despicable person. Despicable life.
To give in on being human is now sensed as a release…..it is freedom….
You can let go.
Hate gives certainty.
All those little things….sleeplessness, cold etc etc, all of them humiliate you….too much too take.
Staying above this, by being aware, with consciousness is unendurably hard when in this situation….where everything, absolutely bloody everything is flat out terrible.
Why put in effort to fight this?
No point.
Go to sleep on life…
Let hate claim you
Forever hate the world and yourself
Bring on the conflict, bring on the hate: ……Here the terrible darkness, when you are shot through, tells you you have all the reason in the world.

To seethe and seethe and seethe, vileily with force is emotion….Finally the fucking world may know.

Give in on life
Go insane
Peace comes in letting go.
So terrible are these worst moments in this place, that this is you;

If one more bad thing happens, one more little setback…..
Then you are gone
Finally you obey the darkness
You have become it
It has done what was it’s right.
Such invalidation of life is a terrible thing.
I had these moments
How close I was I do not want to say: the most terrible moments here are too terrible for words.

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