Crows feet. Lamb or sheep, balanced upon a crows beak. Earth’s resistance looking bleak. The ground will barely tell the difference. A serious game, don’t you miss this. 360 degree eyes, I’m equipped with. Literally see it coming, in the next second, my head, a bullet will split it. Just enough time to think about regretting. Passed, more like carved through. A hole can be apart of you too. Made it’s own way, the surrounding need not move. Blood flew loose. Died standing upright. Who would’ve knew.
Oh no here we go, all this energy expended, nothing to show. Pores opened, sweat exposed, walked down a straight line death row. Left behind a trail of flowers, bloomed, where in the ground imprinted my big toe. This is the route for the next prisoner to go. Live to die, came just to go. live to die, came just to go. No circle of life here, evidence knows. Truth be told, even the dead petals won’t put any nutrients in the soil. Death in dry spades, lost opportunities for shade turn the landscape one dull shade of gray. Live to die, it doesn’t work in the reverse way.
Can you smell. Fresh sent.
Paper cut. How can such a thin sheet of paper make me bleed so much. Red is the feeling. Realization of once was. Now literally pouring out of me. Will never be the same. Life reaped out before the blood had a chance to touch the floor. Splattered mercilessly on the ground. Truth concealed, false reality. I’m only human. More specific only one person. Not an immortal god, never had the juice. Red stains hindsight proof, lack of will power towards walking forward into an abyss. My sanity ain’t ready for this. Nostalgia had me. Caught up in a memory distracting from the sting. Focused on the inside, blood flows through my veins right. If all of it came out. I’ll die won’t I ? Constantly thinking about death now.
History flashes before my eyes. Time a wall never to be touch but to jump back in time and forget all is a must. Remember, memories , take center stage, this can’t be real it’s a play. Curtains opened up to show me. Looking back the actors were bad, matter of fact if this is pulled directly from life. It’s looking kinda sad. Emotions and intentions don’t line up correctly. She smiling but from this third point of view I can tell she trying to hurt me. Although I’m smiling, all I see is a lost little boy. Tired and lonely. These are supposed to be highlights in my life. I was certain. Shit more pain. The cut opened up and worsen. Should be indestructible, only dealing with matter of “fact’. I was certain. Why all the extras and actors in the back row look like snakes lurking. Almost like with every new experience or piece of information. I see through more and more bullshit. While loosing patience.
Their I go again taking actions, clearly shady. Not as good as I make myself out to be. A fallen star landed and almost killed me. That makes it mines now. Mad that it shot back up and left me. Took it out on the nearest beautiful scenery. Left it ugly. The play continued. The pain traveled up my arm and just went loose. No Love could be found anywhere. One evil villain right after another entered to scheme and left to continue on with their dream. My Whole life, nothing was what it seemed. Burning question, what does it all mean.
What did you forget?
Remembered. Only after, you’ve forgotten again. Memories moving in a geometric flow. Patterns explode. And there “I” go. Trapped in a Time capsule. Buried when ? Only the memory knows, never shows. Left with only a couple of words. Whenever told, sounds absurd. ” I’ve felt this before”. Only just touched down on the moon. It was an onion that put me in this mood. Cut of the ends, reveal the circles within. Symmetry, remove the skin. Only just the slightest cut. Tears flowing into ducts. Road ahead is still a must. Cleanly Sliced into two, put the halves back together, stuck like glue. No one would have knew.
Remind me, my other half is missing, A third of me gone. Down to two. First things first stay well slept, if you decide to mess with a bitch, that’s mad, she ain’t a hoe. Please forget the particular people that don this cloak. Like to be mad the moment, they are woke. Range from anything to a joke, or out of turn, someone, spoke. They lucid dream onto the scene, do anything to break that, you’re the one being mean. So I’ll set myself up, enjoy the rush nothing better than a reason to commit treason. Attitude change like the seasons. Close attention feel it coming. Even in a dream you don’t have full control.
Lost in this onion scroll. Dicing now, regain self control. Onion only just a minute ago used to be whole. Meant as a joke, the moment it entered the premises, the future became history. The onions that, only just, died here ? Ain’t no list for me. Finish, use the next one, to remember when the last one was whole, complete. What a feat put life on metaphoric repeat. Cut off the ends, reveal the circles within, scan top to bottom, the smallest circle out of symmetry. Forget the day you lived life like a hamster, a bump hit my ball, causing me to fall out and see.
Blinded by the broken glass, couldn’t read the situation. Hoes get to you, no capacity for patients. Even for myself. Always feeling sick. Love to chase the get well. Suit of armor for anyone who wants to live life at a faster pace. Understanding death is one of these days. Get to the goal literal race, no face to face on the go. Got to run up besides and see only half the face. Thank goodness I run backwards fast with grace. Practice running from problems putting the future behind me. Focused on the past, although from this far away everything looks so tiny. That ball was more than a home, everything I knew.
Whatevers in the way, be it pain. Cut loose. Cut one Cut two. Dicing. Almost through. Onion all exposed, multiple faces. Who they really are ? Can’t seem to know. Whole lot of nothing and it shows. Yet still love me some cubes. So much to know. More cuts, more parts of myself to be exposed. Lets not get lost on the road, 13 more onions to go. Cutting my way up the food pyramid. I want me a wholesome girl. Yet still refuse to cut the shit.
We got problems. I admit.
Never had much in the first place, this should be an easy task. Won’t hold back, thirsty so I’ll drink straight out the bottle. Hard to see, the only things that held you together vanish like a memory. This bottle is finished, barely remember drinking it. Thinking steadily, hands open readily. Drop any and everything known to me. It was over in a second. Stuck with the after taste for a couple of minutes. Never had much, what’s the fuss, hold up, attachment. Still found myself scrabbling for more time as my identity dared to hit the ground. Maybe if I hold the bottle upside down long enough. Residue will join hand in hand, flowing with gravity to form a droplet. Just enough for me to have a taste once more. In actuality, a common fallacy. What shot to the ground was me. Imagine a baseball player diving for home run. How else was he supposed to make it.
That’s what it felt like. Suspended in mid-air, hold the thought there. This is the source of my issue because, of this feeling I’ll dis too, mistreat, chop of feet and even, strangle the life out of somebody. All my life I’ve been known as the good guy. Worked hard. To get put up, this high in everyone else’s mind. Take that from me. Sure sounds a lot like death to me. Who would I be. What would other’s see. Need outside opinion to be complete. Not ready to take that second step into the unknown. Forever in the zone, safer place than home. Upon a throne, wining at this game called life alone.
If I’m a winner. What reasons do I have to be so desperate to win in this moment. Look at me, going so far as to, one-up myself. At the sake of my own health. Drop everything I’m doing if that means I get the chance to show off. Diving for nothing there. Since when is identity just the parts and not it’s entirety. The disgust felt, watching myself now, tiring. No wonder, most people just give up when around me. How you out clown a clown. Out ass an ass and live with a man who is only comfortable when everyone else isn’t. You just kinda give him what he wants. You can tell he really needs this.
Even with all this, Feelings still in a free fall. Who would I be without this. Dumb-ass, you’ll still be you. Although true. I’m more afraid of finding out who I truly am. A bird or a rat with wings. To fall down is to be weak. The thought, feeling, a little tweaked. Falling. Have yet to truly fell. Stay suspended in hell. Funny though, for an illusion I clearly fell. My identity was mines to begin with. Proving it, is the next step. Don’t know how, no confidence to figure it out. So we shout. Acting proud all the while dumb found.
Silly of me to cling onto a cloud. Every changing, parts rearranging. Even if It flipped upside. Took the shape of a clown, Poor sucker, lazy fucker. It would still be a cloud. Inspire to be just like a cloud. That thought came to me the moment, I allowed myself to fall down. Eat dirt, stained my shirt, no longer a player, didn’t make it back home to first. Oh well. Things could always go better or worst.