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Do these drugs make my existential crisis look fat?
It matters not that years may pass
and take with them parts of us,
or age may sneak across our faces
and throw us under the bus.
Still seemingly a sculpture
or an ageless nursery rhyme,
you hang there, art for soul displayed
beyond the touch of time.

I witnessed as you robbed me
of attention elsewhere spent.
You blossomed like a cherry tree,
and I lied to mask intent
A craving for a fresh Spring love,
that very tree to climb,
and to swing there, from your branches
beyond the touch of time.

I wanted you like Summertime,
I reveled in your heat.
The long, hot days turned into nights
Where I sought to compete
to bask there in your sunlight...
I'd spend my final dime
To ride the sky with you, like stars,
beyond the touch of time.

I fell for you like fiery leaves,
carried forth on Autumn wind,
and dried up on the forest floor
A season, there to spend,
Nestled in your deep laid roots,
it should have been a crime
To fade away as you stood there
beyond the touch of time.

I loved you like a blizzard,
but you came across as salt
Melting me to clear the way
through my wintry assault.
Yet danced around me like a flake,
held aloft by the sublime,
and hung there in the frozen air
beyond the touch of time.

Full circle, and full cycle,
the revolution's done.
In the aftermath, the epilogue,
it's hard to say who won.
I still see you, through the seasons
and you live on like a rhyme,
written upon  infinity,
beyond the touch of time.
It used to be thrilling to me-
All the **** that was killing me
That i just threw away
Habits trashed so I'd live to see another day
Still I'd pay, I'd even pray
In hopes that it would go away
They say it's a small price to pay
You could live forever living this way
And that's okay
I don't wanna be here anyway-
But i gotta stick around they say
Cause people love me, tell me "stay".
It's not a me thing, i think it's they
Who say the easy route is the coward's way
Now I'm just too tired to play
The game is rigged anyway
I'm on cruise control for another day
Feet on the dashboard, let the wheel sway
And pretend it's all good, but anyway
I've let the world have too much say
Invade my sanctuary, turn my blue to gray
I cling to this fantasy that I'll find my way
In the dark, blindfolded and broken, but anyway
It's all about the facade, me and God are okay
Talked to him for an hour yesterday
Asked him how much longer it'll be this way
He said to **** it up, it's all a joke anyway
"I'm done" proclaimed John Doe as he
Pulled the cord on civility
Wrapped it around his neck and stepped
Off the chair into history.

His epitaph sketched onto glass
In red lipstick from god knows who
Found next to Gideon's beneath
A touch tone phone from '82.

Who knows what brought this unknown son
To the edge of mortality
In Motel 6 in Santa Fe
Around a quarter after 3.

But there he was, embracing fate
Without a single second thought
Selecting death, rejecting self
In spite of what his self had wrought

No tears were shed, nobody knew
This nameless face in calloused crowd
Whose final words in lipstick read
"I'm done, it's all too ******* loud."
Statues may tumble
But hate still stands
On a pedestal, proud
And foolishly clinging
To a dying light
To a long since lost battle
That will never end.
Walls crumble, steel bends
And the spirit bows
But right or wrong, friend,
It just does not break.
Even standing there
In the rubble of "what should be"
Realizing that doesn't exist now.
There is only "what is".
And all you can do is fight.
Bridges burn, and we'll never
Make it back to where
We were before the fires.
Simply standing on the banks
On our pedestals
In the rubble
Chest puffed
Chin out
Needing to break something else.
We memorialize the wrong things.
I'm just waiting for that check to come.
The world is burning but I feel numb.
TV is awesome and outside is dumb.
So I'm sitting here waiting for my check to come.

I'm holding my breath when I go to the store
And they're still out of paper, like the 5 times before.
But when that check hits, it's ******* galore.
I'll buy it all wholesale, it'll be a big score.

Just a few weeks til I get that sweet cash
Then it's Amazon Prime, Grub Hub and DoorDash.
I'm sure that this plague will be done in a flash
And we'll go back to life with our fat wads of cash.

So I'll sit on my sofa and watch the train wreck.
In my fortress of Lysol and standard-grade tech.
With my *** getting bigger and pain in my neck
Waiting patiently here for my stimulus check.
Written on a whim and turned to a punk song by a friend.
https://youtu.be/0hWd95TGjdw
If I don't wake up tomorrow,
from these words, some comfort borrow-
know that until the very end,
you were my heart, and my best friend.

If never more I see the dawn,
or watch the stars burn from the lawn,
believe that I died pacified-
my soul content, you by my side.

If this old heart should beat its last,
it will not beat for forlorn past.
It's final pulse- though weak, still true-
will be driven by love of you.

If the sun were to shed no light,
and darkness turn the day to night,
no other star could dare to shine
and light a world as you have mine.

So, if this were my final breath,
and this exhale would mean my death,
I'd form your name with my last air-
I only lived, when you were there.
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