It all stacks up
Over time
Accumulating turmoil
That’s the nature of the crime
A name
A place
A face
To face
The echoes
Of the past
There is no time
To waste
Once the die
Has been cast
Roll
With the blows
With an eye
On the goal
Stacking up
The reasons
To never lose
Your soul
Time
Is not on your side
Give some to some
And get taken for a ride
To nowhere
An emotional
Roller coaster
Leaving you
Flat lined
Somewhere
No one wants to go
Just
Pick up the pieces
And run…
Throw the dice
Try your luck
And we’ll all pretend
To give a fuck
It’s the only way out of the life
You’ve been subjected to
Who do you love?
Who do you screw?
Oh that’s horrible!
What can we do?
Send me a dollar
Oh make that two
Crack a smile
Feel good inside
You did what you did
You did what we expected of you
Ethical questions?
Who gives a fuck?
Just roll with the blows
And best of luck
The game was in play
Before your time
No changing it now
It’s no longer a crime
Just hold up the glass
Do it in style
Because I’m about to turn
Fucking hostile
The water breaks, the flesh starts to compress and the struggle begins. There is only one way out and instinct pushes the new flesh in that direction. Soon the senses will be put into shock as the first breath of oxygen is inhaled. Blinded by the light, the first scent hits and every sound is deafeningly clear. Tiny fingers grasp the air searching for a soft breast and the warm comfort of mother’s milk. Genetic code guides as experience is absent and the strange new environment is yet to be understood.
Does your name say who you are? Maybe your titles? Your age? Your actions, reactions, opinions, beliefs…. Your dreams?
What defines you? The clothes you wear, the place you live or the company you keep?
Where is the meaningful factor? The purpose of your existence? The reason you get up everyday and keep on living?
Is your karma a dark shade of crimson or the brightest heavenly hue? Perhaps you see your life in varying shades of grey. Maybe you see yourself as a victim of circumstance, just trying to get by in a hard, hard world or maybe you got lucky or were born in the right place at the right financial investment.
You know the answers to these questions and you feel guilty just thinking about some of them and a bit too proud of some of the others but this story isn’t about you. This story is you.
We were but children bustled by the storm. A war of words had broken our innocence. Our youthful dreams had turned to dark fantasies and thoughts of vengeance. We would lean on poisons to help escape the real. Except for you. You were different. Your battered face held defiant eyes. You had faced more than angry words and slamming doors. Yet the scars you sported on your skin were nothing compared to the wounds inflicted upon that animal inside you. Those eyes forever distant yet focused. You would sit as still as stone. each breath slow and physical. Without one word being said I could hear that sentence engraved in your mind: One day my time will come and that day. So will theirs.
