Fairwell to the Fairground

Life isn’t about fun and games, those ideals spoon fed to us as children, as teenagers, are nothing more than  candy floss coloured, E numbered up, sugar coated lies. “Eat up it’s good for you” the smarter of us are reassured whilst we hold these spoon-fed lies in our mouths reluctant to swallow it down like the rest. Eventually it starts sticking in your throat, the sugar coating isn’t sweet enough, not convincing enough and the cheap taste of polystyrene seeps through. Bland, phoney, unappetising- that’s what it’s really like. And once you uncover that bland plastic taste underneath all the sugar coating, it’ll never go away.

We compete to have the best, the most convincing sugar coating over our bland lives of polystyrene. Trying to forget that we ever tasted the bitterness- the truth behind it all. Everything becomes a competition, not doing something because you want it but because someone else does. Scrambling around on your hands and knees for the last scraps of sugar to coat the bitterness, engorging yourself into obesity just to escape reality.

It makes you feel fucking sick, sick to the stomach. Sick because there’s no cure for it.

 

Survival of the Fittest

Love is no happy ever after
No fairytale, no perfect ending.
It’s settling for what you can put up with
Ease and comfort founding the equation

There’s no love at first sight,
It’s impersonal
Infused upon reciprocation
A mutual business transaction-
Evolutionary.

Romance is purely passing the time
Sex: two animals coming together
And love just a myth
A survival mechanism
Memetic.

So don’t fucking talk to me about love,
It’s only genetics
You’re just saying “you’ll aid my survival”
Not “I’m in love with you”.