By Mack Graham
The Concept of good and bad is relative to the creature or organism, what gives nourishment to
one can leave the other starved. Such things have always existed, from the dawn of man,
judgement has been cast down upon the wallflowers, using their vulnerability as destruction and
an ultimate extermination. Brute force is how they deal with these problems, a jagged piercing
blade, and a heavy unforgiving flame, sent to destroy, made to kill, designed to devastate.
I am the ravaged earth, torn and bleeding, betrayed by man and his greedy paws
I am that living growing life under your feet
Interlocking, interconnecting strands of being, repeatedly forming, morphing and altering
The threading weaved mycelium, doubling its mass and expanding to connect further into the
earth’s rich and nourishing soil.
Sustaining smaller lives, providing nourishing nutrients, extending and insuring future
generations till extinction
I am those skittering, crawling insects that chew away at rotting wood
They buzz and chitter in the ears, reverberating off the eardrum, nipping at the skin, tearing away
at loose unsuspecting matter.
Infestation, overpopulation, plague, each existing through one another and through me
An interference stunting the natural order
Lies so painful and truth that betrays natural logic
But where is logic meant to stand with the defiance of man, I am just destroyed and forgotten
about once my use is through
You think of me when it is convenient or when your own mortality is at stake
Where does that leave me,
Where does that leave all of us
Such selfishness and greed are features I could never obtain, I take what I need and leave what I
can behind, giving more of myself than what was offered in return
They continue to take, it is all they know, man’s sympathy lacks when it is absent of self-gain.
Want want want till there is but scraps and crumbs to pick over
and they will
Give give give until my limbs can no longer reach the distance
and I will, every time
It is in my nature after all, and I am nature, so I couldn’t go against myself.
I am a thought, an idea sprout to life, unwilling and destitute
A dream, a nightmare born from the fruits of man, selfish and greedy
No reason to exist, no reason to detach oneself from the burden of this eternal sentence
Confusion and pain flowing with consistence
Joy and understanding detaching with hesitance
Acknowledging regretful distant future decisions I have yet to make
forgiving past scars but refusing to forget and let them rest
To the lack of moonbeams, from thick choking frog above tainting lungs
to an abundance of rain, burning the skin with every drop,
Leaving me and the rest of the world to recover from the relentless suffering
It always feels the same at the end of it all
Burning, stinging, piercing and a visceral desire to expel the contents of myself upon the
unforgiving doorstep of death
But a scream at the sky is all that escapes, barely leaving more to the mind than a passing trend
or lingering touch, no willing further investigation will be made
If it was, could it be fully processed what is saw
When you see me do you fear what you view, is the image of me fuel for your nightmares, most
likely it would
reality turns into your make believe daydream, that leads to an impossibly
The limbs that extrude from my physical form, spindly organic reaching forms, covered in moss
older than modern man, giving life to both visible and microscopic alike
Lingering, carful eyes scanning over the lay of the land, absorbing the most minuet of stimulus
I crawl and wade amongst the trees, carefully weaving in and around the grown sprouts that have
fallen from my body
quietly and thoughtfully examining their existence on a cellular level till there is nothing left for
me to do other than to sit beside myself with my residual thoughts and wonder
If you could crack open my mind and peer at what was inside, I fear regret would be a persistent
overwhelming emotion undeniable to ignore in this circumstance
Intrusive and intense thoughts cycling through my mind rapidly with no remorse
Past traumas visiting nightly like old friends
Reminding me that nothing ever lasts and nothing ever changes,
that is why I’m still here, alone but surrounded with life
Fear, to separate myself from what I’ve held on to for so long, not knowing the outcome drives
me away from transforming my form
I know what is bad for me, and I know what heals, but my mind thinks of every worst possible
situation to prevent me from choosing a path that would better my entirety
You could feel sympathy for me and my position, however dreary it may seem,
Alas, I’m content with my solitude, what could I complain about that I haven’t already mulled a
thousand times over, and what good would it do my subconscious
I put myself in this situation, I must deal with the consequences of my actions, and of mans, no
matter the mess, my own willingness to clean it up proves l have no backbone.
White Noise Zine 