Hope…
what a waste of a word.

A breath spent on something that never stays.
A system-built song
pressed into the mind like instruction
what we should want,
what we should reach for,
what we should become
to stay in line.

Hope…
engine of false futures,
factory-made light
stitched onto dark hours.

Hope…
dopamine myth,
chemical rise
blood vessels opening like promises,
pupils widening
for a world which never arrives.

And when it fades
it always fades
it leaves the body
standing in the wreckage
of what it was told to believe.

Hope…
barbaric meaning.
false idol.
god with no mercy.

Hope,
my tormentor.
my ache dressed as possibility.
my agony that smiles
before it disappears again.

Original journal entry 12/28/17 7:55am

Hope...  What a bullshit idea, waste of a word, waste of my breath.  

An idea instilled in our brains by corporate systems, what we can have, what we can dream, what we in individuals should all strive for to confirm to one idea, one single file line. The idea is.

Hope.
Hope...  The creator of beautiful dopamatic release; an unstoppable dilation of blood vessels in your body, dilation of pupils, dilation of what is believable and achievable.

Hope... Such a barbaric meaning, false idol, fake prophet of mine.

Hope, My tormentor, my agony, my tribulation, my woes.

Hope… still pretending to mean something.