Consciousness is such a bastard.
Make it go away
and it comes back again.
Brings me my mind
in perfect torment,
or the world,
which never satisfied.
Brought me you,
to teach me of betrayal,
in my own heart
and in yours.
That kind of breaking
is enough to make a man
want to lay down
and never rise again.
Then,
the dreams come,
and that’s why I believe
in Hell;
torment,
timeless,
with no escape.
An eternity of time
compressed,
only to wake up again
right back where I was.
Caught up in the web
of my own life.
Praying for the spider to come
and then,
I realize
I am him.
I guess it keeps me from suicide;
knowing Hell could be real.
So I’m left with one more option
get up,
get dressed,
make coffee,
and pick up my pen.
Not sure
if this is embracing life,
or flipping off God,
and living despite it all.
Maybe it’s the Devil
that needs the “Fuck you!”,
but like the spider,
I think there’s a good chance
I am like him.
Wander this world
until my time comes.
Dealing with life,
and death,
and occasional trips down South.
Maybe I’ll make something
out of all of this
after all.
HG – 2021
