The obstacle of these days neither helps nor hinders any sense of place. It's all relative to this or that, always here or there. Someplace other, somewhere now somehow. It's clear that life gets in the way of living. That joyful land in the sun sitting pretty where contentment is a mere sigh away from the dark carnivals gloom of gone worlds gasping. A location left to the overactive imaginings of our miserable lot in life. To find that sweet spot, safe to dwell in. Always overcrowded and too noisy to relax. Searching for the same respite. The hustle bustle of commuting nowhere fast. Holding on for dear life. The danger of falling into the abyss of you. Forsaking all the others huddled there. Jealous of trees, envious of mountains. Resentful of oceans and suspicious of rivers.
Freedom’s desire erodes the possibility of escaping the hustle of streets. Back and forth traveling in your own warped thinking at breakneck speed. Years bend to the will to survive. Arriving at forgone conclusions in the act of being there early or later than usual, only to realize a sublime repetition of life. A touchdown spot of submission to surrender your soul and retreat. That piece of earth to tread. Driving madly suspended backwards to reverse the past holding fast to the future. That singular act ready to begin a worn phase of life's conjecture. Reanimated and propped up in cozy chairs of doubt.
The sinking ship we sail carries all near and dear. Along the heart of matters grabbing for anything to keep afloat. Rise to the occasion for the sake of saving some silly face of decorum. Cut loose the ties that bind minds to petty earthly pursuits. A cat and mouse hide and seek of challenges to conquer. Drowning in a bog of an untimely demise. Passing on the pitfalls of fruitless endeavors some may mistake for a semblance of living life.
Loose teeth, thinning hair and wobbly legs. Wrinkles in the skinny truth. Novelties wear thin. Except for that growing gut hanging down. No longer the charming Lotharios or Lolitas of olden days. Unwanted and lonely old fools reminisce glory days. Release is the only option. An army of elders slow poke march to end time’s finish line.
This is the sport of viewing life in death’s dead eyes. Relinquishing all survivors to the chicanery sham of two-bit tinhorn despots who seek only power. Dominion over all who languish here. As they serve none but their own to the detriment of many. Life’s too short to live so long. The clock craps out running on borrowed time. Hold back the hands of miscalculated bad timing. Poor judges of each characters flawed assumptions. Time-honored traditions and dreams of better days. Frozen in ice, devoured by fire.
Everything is fake here in another sick joke of phony punchlines bad news. Rehashed regularly to suit the needs of informed dimwits. Burning red hot lies from vaguely aware dullards. Why bother marking time? Notches of the deceased tally carved on the old rugged cross suspended. Nailed to the wall like an old picture in a broken frame. Staring in the mirror at some familiar version of a stranger gawking back. Who’s to question who? The moment realized disappears soon enough. Dissolved into the void from whence it came. Gazing into the dark, cussing out the night’s reflection. How can there be so many galaxies in the darkness? The fault laid to blame at the feet of greedy gods. Whatever they believe changes nothing.
Holding truth to be self- evident. Hand upon a book of fables, under oath to tell it like it was. Not for any reason or purpose. To identify with saints and martyrs in wicked confessions under duress without choice. Justice is not mine. Pledge allegiance to a piece of cloth drenched in blood. The rules to abide not worth the paper they’re written on. Held in the bosom of the republic. Hold tight for your mortal condition. A death grip dangling above the earth. Hanging in the sky suspended like a caged bird.
Time bomb hearts explode. Tears fall. Cuddle up. Wishing to be made of tougher stuff. Dig heels in deep and wrap arms around phantoms. Embrace shreds of past lives. Grab the gusto of things yet to come. A hangman’s game forgives trespass. Hold tight or release. It’s of no consequence. Defy gravity and float to the surface. Where rarefied air meets empty space. The deadline must be crossed. Over to the other side always moving every second forward and losing hours. Forgive the years. Undo the locks, break the chains and bow out gracefully. Time to go home again. Give up, give in and slowly drift away.