What’s in a name?

What’s in a name?
Jack ****, that’s what’s in a name.
Because the name of a person will not change who they are.
If the word ‘war’ was defined as freedom from violence and disturbance,
what we now know as “peace” could easily be referred to as ‘war’

Because what makes a chicken so, chickeny?
Who looked at this tasty bird and thought to themselves.
This is a chicken.
It wouldn’t matter if you called it an eagle it would still taste the same in nugget form.

Because if Jimmy liked Sheila because she was hot, smart, and funny,
Why wouldn’t he like her if her name was Lauren?
He would like her the same no matter the name.
(Unless he only dates girls named Sheila,
In that case it just makes Jimmy a **** with peculiar taste.)

That’s the thing people don’t get about disease.
It doesn’t appear with the diagnosis, no.
It’s been there.
Living and writhing inside of you.
Just because you give it a name
Doesn’t invalidate the before.
So when they roll their eyes
And say you’re using it as an excuse now
An excuse to stay home, in bed
An excuse to not be in their presence
Tell them no.
Tell them everything you used before was an excuse.
Because now, you can finally give it a name.

31 sleeps until Christmas.
He's got six weeks a sullen doctor says
Is this the scale for our lives I wonder? The years the weeks and the days.

You remember where you were when the call came in
Blissfully unaware and then it changed everything

How could you know what they were going to say?
"You've got the job" or "it's the hospital, it's going to be today"

These things they divide the eras of our lives. They aren't measured in ticks and tocks
It's always "after little Ben came along" or "since the towers dropped"

Drill down further and you'll hit the epochs of our very existence.
"When I worked for Tesco", "when I retired", "when I went up to infants".

Funny how folk say school days are the best of your lives
Now school was ok, I can see why they'd say
But chances are it's based on lies.

See, you look back at things favourably. Overlooking the negative parts.
The dreary hours in detention or the time you split your trousers in class.

The embarrassment that lasted weeks is now an anecdote for reunions
And if you went, I'm sure, school days weren't nearly half as fun as your uni ones.

So the ticks keep tocking and the clocks ain't stopping and the hours will always make days
We can work then sleep like good little sheep then the days will only make greys.

Or in my case, nothing.

Time gains it's substance from when you look back at it.
24 hours can be a day or, all those hours can flit

Chances are you work and each work day echoes the next.
Emails and phone calls. A pit stop for lunch. Having relationships over text.

Look back over the last 5 years and rejoice that memory that sticks
I got a fiver that says it ain't the 9 hours straight that you spent alone on Netflix.

See, you might not keep a diary but your brain does and you might not know.
Have you ever looked back in the evening and felt that morning was days ago?

The time was full of wonderful things to keep the brain alert and engaged
Nothing slipped by unnoticed and the diary was full on that page.

Take a look at the 27 club.
Hendrix, Winehouse, Cobain
Chances are there's more pages in your diary but most of those are plain

All of us organic. Decaying as time slides by.
The most we can ask is a fair amount of time so come death, we won't ask why.

Our pages full of joy and tales
Of how it feels when the wind fills our sails
It's said that time flies, but I find often it stops and sits
The world may not remember us but we can always remember it.

How it's amazed with its sights
Its days and its nights
Oh, the ways it delights
I digress...

I guess I should go. Check my watch and I know it's only 18000 sleeps until death.

Why are you like this?
You're making it difficult for me.
You're the only person I'm trying not to miss.
Now, you're doing everything not to leave me be.

You've done something I couldn't understand.
Suddenly, feelings became out of hand.
You shattered my once peaceful dreams.
Then things are not what they seem.

You made me the reason for everything.
But all I hear was an excuse.
You insisted what you did was a good thing.
Then why do I feel I'm being used?

Please don't rekindle a dying flame.
I love you, but not as passionate as before.
Don't feel guilty for you are not to blame.
This is all I can offer, please don't ask for more.

I don't want to feel the same pain.
What we had already ended.
I've moved on, please don't break me again.
My heart's healed. It has been mended.

Who has time to make an excuse
Should put their time to better use!
It is the worst way time to use;
It is very hard to excuse!

Somethings don't exist
and we all know
time is an illusion
but a necessary one;
to keep the people at ease.

To mend our minds into
a formulaic map
reading each other
all too easily--
indifferently.

Time does exist
but it only does
when you don't want it to.

Your first kiss
time didn't stop
as it's already over.

Your first love
they're already miles away
running in the other direction--
with another lover
wishing for the world to stand still
just for them.

The second
the world chose to ignore time
and let you ignore it as well,
was the moment you wanted it all
to come back for just a little more.

Sitting in a hospital bed
where doctors let you fringe
which hours are meant for visits
is when there is not enough time left.

When you are allowed to exist
outside of time
that's when you wish the illusion
would never fade away.

The final moments
last forever
as those moments
exist only in the continuum
of infinities.

To talk to you
To get near you
To feel your touch
To listen to your voice
To hear your laugh
To make you smile
To see you blush
Excuses, Excuses, Excuses