Majorca to Manchester (via Existential Angst)

a metal shudder
the cloudy veil of manchester
to remind its freshly tanned re entrants
about their own fragility.

barely perceptible
until wife whispers to me :
“i think this pilot must be a learner…”

the earnest expression ( and several years of training) resolves the matter of how best to respond:
“it’ll be fine” i say in my vocal equivalent of an emergency stop

to lie or deceive
fake or believe?

am i a willing participant in this buffoonery?
or the calm bestower of a ruthlessly logical statistical certainty

to join in the madness of my own uniqueness
or to fall back on my trust in my own insignificance??

which way to go?
the lesser maddening?

“thanks for the existential crisis darling” (quotation marks only for the privacy of my own demasculated manhood)

and then to shatter the internal clamour
the juddering landing
followed by a smattering of applause and a few polite humorous euphemisms….

what just happened there?

the wordless acknowledgement of a shared experience of contemplating our own mortality in a form of a digestibly light aperitif…
ahhh..back to real life.

can there be anything more real?

is life really just a load of kitsch
until the only thing that is and always will be the one real thing in our life…
our own death.

and this constant skirting around the realness of things

now so replicated and mass produced in all perceptible forms for the senses to consume

this fleeting experience of something inside us
so hungrily sought after
but to remain at arms length

turning us into multicoloured lava lamps continuously emitting emotional radiation in response to the barrage of pulses from the “cynics” who dont worry about the value of the feeling so much as the price.

because maybe for the majority of us kitsch may be as much reality as we would like to have

before the mask goes on
and the anaesthetic seeps in
and you can only let yourself be at your most vulnerable
by suspending belief
and trusting in the ephemeral fluidity of your own impermanence
to tunnel through that insurmountable absurdity of your existence

what could more real than that?

The Barrier of Belief
The Barrier of Belief