Scrolling through Facebook, Born to Run in my ears,
My friends celebrate that they're in the clear;
The beginning of their career.

There's no Wendy running with me, but that's ok.
She'd only get in my way.

Picking my life I jumped the gun. In bed at one for a bus at half five;
"The body is dead but the spirit is alive!"

Trying to read my scripts on the bus, fighting open my eyes.
Won't be back for a while, so mother's last words; sweet goodbyes.

Stepping off the bus, my baggage is heavy; the suitcase too.
My body is worn, my jacket is torn, and there's rain in my shoe.

Wendy. Where are you?

Today all the eligible promotees find out if they get promoted
I've been working for this company for over 17 years and YES I feel like I'm owed
Those that got promoted got to hear from the CEO while the rest of us got a canned speech from the CEO's flunky:

He said: I’m sorry you didn’t make it...you’ll get’em next year”
I thought: "Whatever it's the same old routine year after year"
He said: "You’re all great workers, but for now we need you right here"

To this company I've given so much back
This time every year I can't sleep
I get anxiety attacks thinking about being left back...again
And it hurts
I sacrifice everything for my work
When I look back I think its been a nice run
But after all these years of not reaching the next rung
I’m beginning to think that perhaps my time in this job is done

They say we can be whatever we want
As long as your rich, above the law, highly intelligent and have no responsiblitys

Think  big.*
And don't listen to people
Who tell you it can't be done.

Amidst the constant keyboard clicking
The rhythmic ping of emails
The random beeps of Lync messages
The slow agonizing dance of meetings
The daunting imminence of deadlines
The weary stare of the computer screen
The lazy sway of pens taking notes
An insistent, persistent and incessant insect
Buzzing in my ear is asking...

You are trapped in a cellar that you are already familiar of
You have been here and you have managed to escape
But you still decided to return and make a fool of yourself
What were you trying to prove?
Have you really proven anything since you returned?

You say this is your ticket to something amazing
But really, what amazes you?
Is it something you have been to before?
Is it something that you have left?

You are not halfhearted, you don't even have a heart
You don't have the courage to leave now because of pride
You are consumed with all the fab sparkles of life
But are you really living now or did you just die?

People keep asking me how I’m doing.
If I’m getting better or if I’ve taken the time to process what’s happened.
If I’ve sought professional help for the metal percussions induced by my career-ending injury.

In all honesty though, professional help is futile. It can’t save me now.
I’m walking through hell and sitting in a ring of fire discussing the temperature of the searing flames would be idiotic.

Why would I allow the flames to dance along my already seared skin longer than necessary?
I know they’re hot.
I know I’m in hell.

I know the pain I feel every day is real and crippling.

Talking about this pain wouldn’t end it. It wouldn’t diminish the heat. It wouldn’t help.

I need to keep walking.
I just need to keep walking.

My crippled body can’t run anymore, but I’ve got to keep walking.

Others continue to rush by. Frantic because they’ve never felt the flames.
They aren’t familiar with the burn. The idea of being in hell is novel.

They are novices.  

But life hasn’t been kind to me.
These flames are familiar with every curve of my body and they dance around with trained feet.


I’ve been in hell for years.


People continue suggesting I find the light at the end of the tunnel, but that’s near impossible here.
I’m too blinded by the brightness of a vehement flame.
Sizzling with an angry vigor for the lack of gratitude I bestowed on my past life.

It mocks the speed at which I used to be able to run. It laps sardonically at the feet that used to run cheer-inducing speeds without thanks from their owner.

But crowds don’t cheer my name anymore.
I now stand on the sidelines and watch my team play.

I burn alive for the game I used to breath and as I watch each and every game, the deep breaths of oxygen only continue alighting the fire.

There’s no way out it seems, but I will try to keep walking.


Because talking is futile.



Note:
Spinal diseases are crippling mentally and physically. Watching the body you've sculpted for years turn to mush because you can't workout is dilapidating .
The despair and helplessness are unfamiliar feelings, feelings that can't be overcome. Disease is disease and sometimes it can't be stopped. Sometimes, it just becomes a burden to bear.


And sometimes people aren't strong enough.

It's different when careers end after four years of college. An expected end, an anticipated end. But when things you love are taken from you abruptly, before your finished. The pain is exponentially worse.

Exponentially. Worse.

my dream is to have my song of a hundred thousand people them knowing every lyric to every song I ever made my dream is to be in the studio every Friday every Saturday morning is that have the hottest beats every day my dream still have my song free style over by hundreds of rappers my dream is to have equity my dream is to get paid something I love to do my dream is to hide away instrumentals outside those four walls tis silence my dream expand the minds of the youth now to the next four generations my dream is to be a part of this culture remembered an acclaimed at some of the legends I see before me everyday my dream the city never acknowledges it is to be one of those that opens the door or walk through that door a pioneer if you will my dream is something has to be something if the world pursues to stop me if you know me is f** I was told don't let no one stop your music so your headphones on put on your favorite song turn off all your lights and drift into your zone for my dream is a dream of anybody that's an artist simply that was work in the gallery and better my craft everyday love you music

i want to draw some naked ladies for a living

i want to make wood melt and turn marble soft

i want to think for the scholars and question long thought ideas

i want the rich to hate me

i want to sneak out their bedroom windows

i want to pass out uninvited in their country estate

i want their daughters to eye me

and make true so easily

what their dreams can't gestate