PBS

Why is it
That I struggle
Being so much less than I am
Why is it
That I feel like
So much more than
A maid, a lender, a mender
Why am I not a simple man?
When did my Mind, my Heart, my Soul, lose its beauty
Did it ever have any at all?
Am I really just scum?  Is the wisdom that is gained through
Striving to live & love fully just philosophical and meant to be flushed away after All
The shit I’ve been through and the rivers of tears
I’ve cried on this sick, twisted Journey, trying to understand
What it means to be A-Live…
I see the book with their names, over a thousand of them, with dreams, so many dreams
of Inner Children.  For a brief moment, I Am reminded of the good I’ve done in the past.
I Am told of the value of in Her/His words.
But it’s funny.  These words have no value when the ones you love the most have the deafest of ears.  I Am not better.  I do not lord myself.  I Am just honest.  Honest in ways you don’t want to me to be here.
I Am Strong.  But is it strength you want, or weakness?  What’s that?  Enraged words conflict what passes my ear…
No one is meant to be under the thumb, the trigger, of the unconscious gun, boom, bap, pap, pap, pow!  No one is meant to burn in the sun.  But we do it.  We do it in hopes that some day the ones we love will rise above.
Until then…
I am human.  I am frail though I am not weak, if it’s my strength you want, that’s your weakness, for I am not one to speak, of God in crooked tongue, and of Love in illusionary fashion.  My strength was gained through loss, and its unfortunate that others must find it in the same, self-made fashion.
Yes, I am different than you, but so is everyone damn else.  So shut the fuck up with your victim mentality rhetoric, if you want Love, take it, in all the ways it comes, because I’m sick, I’m tired, I’m so sick & tired of being sick & tired that I’ve nothing else to lose than my well-being and for quite some time, quite a bit of it I’ve been releasing to take care to the vast array of needs that need to be kept up with and followed…
Sick & tired, so sick & tired, time has expired, if only I could get wired, plug in to a battery and have unlimited energy, then I could do all that & more, address every single thing that you’re telling me.
But I can’t.  I am only human.  The best of me is to the left of me and the rest that’s left is sin.  I can’t win.  I’ve never won, but in the end, guess what?  I’ll survive.  Cause through all this unfortunately twisted and lame madness, it’s cool, it’s okay so long as we are alive.
And when my physical incarnation vanishes here on Earth, or who knows Mars, then my Soul will fly, free once again my friend, at home amidst the stars will be my happy end.
So hate me all you want.  Tell me I only want to hear myself.  Read this back to me if it makes you feel better.  Doesn’t matter what you say or do because my true freedom shall be there, whether I Am Now, Sooner, or Later.
Anything less than I Am, no longer can I pretend…