This is the song that never ends
Much as we dearly wish it would.
Like so many of my songs, it doesn’t even rhyme.
And it never ends.
Oh, it has a finite number of words,
a finite number of characters,
it can be read, or sung
in a finite amount of time,
but you will find
that this is the song that never ends,
not as long as you cling to it,
not as long as you hold on to it,
not as long as you permit and force it
to be a part of your life,
and sure,
in this case,
you can just let go.
but that’s because I made the conscious,
kindly choice
not to make this horrifying.
I don’t mean “scary”,
“spooky”,
“Halloweenish”,
I mean,
if I were to pull from my life
or, say,
the life of my murdered ex,
some particularly awful detail,
something you felt obligated to remember,
then this actually would be
a song that doesn’t end
because we have taught ourselves
that being, not simply conscious of horror,
but holding on to it,
holding it tightly,
grinding it into our brains,
twisting it around inside,
is a moral and philosophical duty.
This is the song that never ends,
and if this version of the song lies,
and flees your head,
realize that it’s because I’ve taken some degree
of pity on you.
I didn’t have to do that.
I’ve known things we’re not allowed to forget,
societal abominations we are not permitted
to put out of our heads.
I’m sorry,
dearest friends,
that this skeleton
has forgotten how to dance;
I may be a pile of undead bones,
but I do, in general, want to entertain,
to create laughter,
even if it’s sometimes laughter with tears.
I’m sorry,
The Girl From Wonderland hated me,
and I hated her
by the time we parted ways,
but it’s been so much harder to laugh
since all her friends told her she was brave
and strong
and mighty
and powerful
and so
she was unafraid
to be
where she got murdered
and now I think about
the way we shove the wrong ideas into our
heads
and it is the song that doesn’t end,
the song of our certainty of failure,
the song of the toxicity of our faith
in faithlessness,
our faith that there is nothing to have faith in,
our faith is that the world is how we want it
if we want it to be bad,
our certainty that these things will change the world
for the better
by making us see it
as the worst place imaginable,
and in the meantime,
we are sure
that this is the worst place imaginable,
and this is our song,
and I hate this song
and you hate this song
and soon,
soon,
I’m going to get up out of this grave,
and try to write a few better songs,
and it’s scary to see the undead walk,
but there are those who welcome a skeleton,
especially a funny little skeleton,
so I promise you:
I’ll sing happier songs,
and I’ll remember how to dance,
but first I need to unlearn
the song
that never
ends.
My name is Jeff Mach (“Dark Lord” is optional) and I build communities, put on events, and make stories come into being. You can get most of my books right here. Go ahead, pre-order “I HATE Your Prophecy“. It may make you into a bad person, but I can live with that.
