I think I’ve become scared of everything I will be. Everything inside of me, all that’s left are dreams. How do you get these things to leave I’ll think.
I know how. I know how.
Here’s a way. We’ll try this way. A drink or two. Do you smoke they say.
We do what we have to to stop it from happening. It’s an it. My kid asked me the other day why they made that movie about the clown the name ‘It.’ I didn’t have an answer.
What’s more scary than ‘it?’ It makes you cry, you don’t know why. Even wine doesn’t bring a smile to these eyes. I’ll drink a little. I’ll drink a bit. We’ll see if we can drown this it out. It never works.
I’ve found an answer, a solution that works for me. It blocks the dreams and they wait for me outside the line of my bedroom shrine. I feel them creep as my toes cross from the safety I’ve made here. But it’s ok. I’ll be ok. Bring on those dreams. Who needs rest.
I really don’t understand why people pull out trump cards when they don’t have to. And it isn’t even near proportionate…
Like I pull out an ant and they pull out an elephant… which wouldn’t help actually because elephants are scared of ants. I saw it on the animal planet…
“Well I wasn’t ordering…” but you were! You were!!! Ugh!
And people wonder why I charge the hill. You know what happens when you walk up the hill, when you meander up the hill? Some fool trips you and you bruise your ass all the way down it rolling while pondering what a fool you are.
So I charge.
Up the hill… to see the next hill to charge to. It’s very tiresome… this thing called life.
How is it you win, but you don’t really win. How does that even work?