One of the most interesting thoughts that crosses through my mind
Is am I overthinking everything to the max, or am I acting blind

Early morning, driving
Music on blast, thriving
Mind starts to wander, conniving
Nonsense thoughts, depriving
Worst outcomes, contriving

what if someone blasts through an intersection
what if i look up and im in a ditch
what if my breaks dont work
what if i crashed and no one noticed

Quick back to reality, swerve and drift
Turn the corner, random Jeep in the brush
Breaks gave out, gave me such a rush
In the trees, barely visible.
Tow truck in the road, not dismiss-able.

Real question is was my mind warning
Preventing a possible mourning
Or was my anxiety doing its diligence
Creating multiple coincidences  
Or does it not even matter
And my overthinking is making it's own chatter

I won't be satisfied
Till something takes my life
Too many pills I've been prescribed
To many times I take more than I should
Something's gonna get me before my time
But that's not enough to fulfil my desire
I'm standing on a ledge on the side of a bridge may be
This might be the thing to quench this thirst
The adrenaline's pumping through my veins
My mind has been declared insane
But I won't be satisfied
Till I find a way off this ride
Cuz I've lost all desire to keep on fighting
I've just run out of thunder and lightning
Something's gonna get me before my time
Maybe super high speeds through deserted streets
Just hope I don't end up
Running into a tree
I'm still lost within my conscience
I've seen too many people come and go
Maybe I'm next to end up the mess
Maybe I'm next to be blessed
But something's gonna get me in the end
I don't need to pretend
I don't need another reality check
Cuz I know I'm getting reckless
And I know people couldn't care less
I don't feel the need to impress
I don't feel the same as I did
Something's gonna get me
I can feel it in my bones
This downward spirals coming to a close
Something inside me knows
There's not long left to go
Before everything in me explodes
Before everything shuts down from all the blows
Something in me knows
There's not much time left to go

©2017 Written By Benji James

when no mornings
follow nights
cities lie without their lights
little beasts root happily
children can live all their fears
   forests break
   mountains shake
then it’s time again

rockets roar with deadly freight
sharp explosions rock the night
   soldiers shoot
   graveyards bloom
it is war

when scrawny skeletons
creep through the streets
parents weep
dead bodies radiate
   new death
and crumpled shapes
   spread more disease
then it’s time again

the general orders strategic attacks
and watches how the metropolis cracks
   rivers stink
   battleships sink
it is war

when the bakers bake no more bread
when the butchers chop off their hands
when the doctors’ only prescription is death
   corpses float in the village pond
   and supermarkets stay closed
24 hours a day
then it’s time again

maybe the ultimate time
for the warriors to storm from their heights
to the valleys to lance and destroy
   they also **** women
   all children are dead
   the moon is all red
   the stars are so wan

   we are counting the corpses
   as long as we can

it is war

when no mornings
follow nights
cities lie without their lights
little beasts root happily
children can live all their fears
   forests break
   mountains shake
then it’s time again

rockets roar with deadly freight
sharp explosions rock the night
   soldiers shoot
   graveyards bloom
it is war

when scrawny skeletons
creep through the streets
parents weep
dead bodies radiate
   new death
and crumpled shapes
   spread more disease
then it’s time again

the general orders strategic attacks
and watches how the metropolis cracks
   rivers stink
   battleships sink
it is war

when the bakers bake no more bread
when the butchers chop off their hands
when the doctors’ only prescription is death
   corpses float in the village pond
   and supermarkets stay closed
         24 hours a day
then it’s time again

maybe the ultimate time
for the warriors to storm from their heights
to the valleys to lance and destroy
   they also **** women
   all children are dead
   the moon is all red
   the stars are so wan

   we are counting the corpses
   as long as we can

it is war

i should've listened to my mother
when she was talking to me about omens and premonitions
like how the glass slid off the table top that day
and i went out anyway

i should've listened to my mother
when she was talking about lucky numbers and feng shui
like how we met on friday the thirteenth
"mom, you're being cheesy, there's no such thing.)

i should've listened to my mother
when she spoke of trembling hands and death
like how i shouldn't have left an hour earlier that day
because the dishes broke in the sink
and my father decided that wasn't a good enough reason to stay.

when no mornings
follow nights
cities lie without their lights
little beasts root happily
children can live all their fears
   forests break
   mountains shake
then it’s time again

rockets roar with deadly freight
sharp explosions rock the night
   soldiers shoot
   graveyards bloom
it is war

when scrawny skeletons
creep through the streets
parents weep
dead bodies radiate
   new death
and crumpled shapes
   spread more disease
then it’s time again

the general orders strategic attacks
and watches how the metropolis cracks
   rivers stink
   battleships sink
it is war

when the bakers bake no more bread
when the butchers chop off their hands
when the doctors’ only prescription is death
   corpses float in the village pond
   and supermarkets stay closed
         24 hours a day
then it’s time again

maybe the ultimate time
for the warriors to storm from their heights
to the valleys to lance and destroy
   they also **** women
   all children are dead
   the moon is all red
   the stars are so wan

   we are counting the corpses
   as long as we can

   it is war

             * *

Musical chairs... Russian Roulette... Who's next?
I can feel it.
I've got to say something about this.
This is metaphorical
And those who understand what I mean will know.
The chairs change
And when the music stops, the chamber spins
And when the chamber stops, the hammer comes down
And if the chamber is empty, there's another round.
But if not, then whatever was loaded will come to be.
I'm not scared, but somehow, I feel like the chair is me.

I fear you. I do.
I fear my fascination with you.
I pull away like the planets press against their rings around the sun,
Reaching for the stillness of the dark beyond
But bound by dazzling heat and light.
Sometimes I see my death in your eyes
Like a moth sees its immolation in the filaments of a lightbulb
But sacrifices life to be
For a moment
Finally warm.

I trust you
As much as one can trust something wild:
I understand
That to touch you might leave
Scars on my hands,
But I think that they would be scars
I would cherish in my later years
And trace among the creases of age
As proof that I had lived without regret.

It is not the heat I fear,
In truth
It is the cold.
It is the passing
Of something bright
Close beside me and then
Beyond
Off into the world
Where I may not follow.

It is the blindness that always comes
When I look away from a brilliant light
And am for a moment paralyzed
By the cold certainty that I will never see again:

I would leave you with something to remember me by,
Some love that refuses to fall away no matter the storm,
No matter the chaos of your fire.
Something quiet and constant
And more enduring than I am.

For

I fear not what you are
But what you aren't
Which, like black water,
Will rush in to fill the void
Once you have gone.

i should've listened to my mother
when she was talking to me about omens and premonitions
like how the glass slid off the tabletop that day
and i went out anyway

i should've listened to my mother
when she was talking about lucky numbers and feng shui
like how we met on friday the thirteenth
"mom, you're being cheesy, there's no such thing."

i should've listened to my mother
when she was talking about colours and hell
like how black skies were signs of demons
the ones that aren't quite like the ones in my head.

i should've listened to my mother
when she spoke of trembling hands and death
like how i shouldn't have left an hour earlier that day
because the dishes broke in the sink
and my father decided that wasn't a good enough reason to stay.