What’s it going to be?
The pistol or the blade?
The enemy restrained,
the atom bomb untamed.
How can I explain,
what I have understood?
My mind is still a maze
and I’m amazed I could
be here at all.
Even before I fall,
I’m already holding
my arms out wide.
Watching it all unfolding
and when I go
over the side,
there’s no controlling gravity.
Only me
and those subtle intricacies.
So what’s it going to be?
I can’t share with you
all my pain.
I won’t do that again.
Iron sharpens iron,
but blood always leaves a stain.
That’s just the way
our world works today
and always has,
as far as I know,
so down we go.
I reach out
and midway to you
my hand becomes a fist.
I cannot explain,
or exist
in the same old way
that I did
before all of this.
I don’t know whether to
fight you,
or embrace you,
but I can’t escape you.
I guess that’s just the way it is.
So what’s it going to be?
The savior,
or the Mime?
The Handler, or the King?
The Grave Robber gets his
every time.
There’s always going to be
someone going in the hole.
It’s what we can’t control,
all we have is our souls.
The feeling that we know
what’s going to happen to us
when we die,
is just a lie.
It might be comforting,
but it’s just a disguise.
Foolish we are
when we should be wise,
but I guess that’s okay.
It’s all part of the games we play.
Spin the Bottle,
Russian Roulette
and Space Invaders.
It’s all now down on paper,
or on line,
so we can read it later.
Archived for all time.
How many lives
have we had in our minds?
I feel,
like a thousand in mine.
The dream,
begets the love,
begets the lie.
That’s our beautiful,
total tragedy.
The fates of you and me.
So,
what’s it going to be?
HG – 2018
