Trouble Is

I recently came into a complete understanding of everything. I was like: oh. I see. Trouble is: having a complete understanding of everything undermines one's potential dramatic arc. That is: I don't really give a fuck anymore. The narratives I occupy myself with and care about are absolutely foreign to the narratives presumed conceivable by the society I'm lodged in. They are obscene, in fact, to the society I'm lodged in. At no point do the two overlap or intersect. Thus, I no longer fear in the same way as those around me. I no longer speak in order to be understood. I no longer have the same fear-set. I fear more, mind you, and in more disabling ways, perhaps, but I do not fear the same things. Nor is my fear apparent to others. It is useless, I expect, even to describe it. Nor can I imagine the situation in which it would be useful for someone to understand. Fortunately: I don't speak in order to be understood by distant strangers. I've accepted the fact that my legend will fade and be forgotten. That I will never be heard. Have you?
Circus Tender
Joe Wenderoth
Wenderoth_cover

Circus Tender

Joe Wenderoth

Floating Wolf Quarterly Cover_wolf