Forlorn Fowl

He is all what might be left to me. I know there is no further potential in any creäture spared which may lurk elsewhere. And I know it won’t be long. In all what’s left to us there is nothing more abundant than time. The rich commodity so many once couldn’t ever seem to catch a hold of now looms over the remainder with slothful jeer knowing the shadow, once chased will offer the icy chill to finish the work of disease. In my lament for my deteriorating fowl there is great likelihood I will slip into my own deterioration. I have become aware that one touch too late will gift me with what I have for so long unrightfully evaded. If there is one thing I have developed through all of this time since the ending it is indifference toward my own end. Resourcefulness and cunning would have served me well if I had been so fortunately endowed, but luck found me first. I have often wondered what it might be like to turn, not to be the hunted. But in this time I would be quite an unfortunate monster, having no other creäture to unleash my hunger upon. I will make sure that when my goose is gone he will not be troubled with such matters. That or we will gallivant off together as monsters and find some way to manage, for he is the most cunning water fowl I have ever encountered.
And as I am forced to contemplate the loss of my companion I am left only with lingering remorse for my former pet. Pink pads and formal wear. I don’t know how he escaped my sight.

The Formalities

And in this dark time when isolation is our only safety, one might beg the ignorance to question if isolation is the best that we have to hope for, if it’s worth having been saved. And when you ask these questions knowing that you are the only barrier between being saved and just being another, the danger becomes all the more real. When the sun creeps warily back up and it finally seems safe to rest, it isn’t. But just having that one last feeling, one last belief in security is all the human spirit needs to persevere, or so it seems; up until this point.

In total it has been almost a year. My accounts could be entirely fraudulent, but what else is there to do but count, and who else is there to challenge my records? I haven’t even seen one in a week, but I am sure if I am sure of anything that rejoicing in this desperate hope has been the end of the few remaining that fund the current supply.

And all that we once took for granted; we have had the fortune to forget, long ago. And all of those formalities have wasted away as gradually but as definitely as their sponsors.

The Former

When you recite a word over and again do you memorize it, is it engraved in you indefinitely? Or does it lose its meaning and the integrity of its makeup. Is the former a worthy goal and the latter lesser?  Does it depend on your state of mind which you experience, or is it your makeup which determines your perception? When the cogs that compose the machine that is your routine fail, and you are forced to adapt to a newly decommissioned structure, are you left empty without the jaded routine that formerly owned you, or did it shelter you, or are you released? Are you capable of release, or maybe at intermittent intervals in your existence are you gifted with glimmers of pause through the clutter to hope you can renegotiate your contract. Do you believe that a biological existence meets the needs of the meaning of the concept? Right now you exist, but would you exist as the same individual under different circumstances, or possibly not even exist at all under different circumstances if they caused enough strain of character?

At any point previously did you consider which needs of yours were met solely to meet the needs of others? Certainly with a crumbling structure the foundation is more apparent, but at what point in the degeneration process is the product of the whole unable to be saved?

Would it be pretentious to ask? To dare steal a glimpse of a former time?
Is it only a matter of time for you, or do you not yet possess the level of concern to be capable of answering?

Before this dark time either no one needed for an instant to question, or just had no desire. Now that the world has changed there is either no energy to wonder what might have been, or no comfort in potentially knowing. There are far fewer of us than in the former world. We are far less formal. Far more is available consider with far less available.

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