Dying Man

One day the betrayal will make sense to me,

When my senses finally begin to betray me,

Crippled, old, and alone, outside of the sea of ex-lovers that are floating away like skipped stones,

Half-stoned and in a primal state, dreaming of my prime when the only thing that made sense was fleeing state lines,

Skipping to the beat of the fleeing commerce of the interstates,

But now my inner-state is one of confusion and I’m just a blank state,

Since my senses have betrayed me I can’t feel a damn thing,

And I’ve never felt so great.

 

I remember the carnage I used to see,

The way it tied like a shoelace around the sun,

Blood red clouds that contaminated everything that may have given me the sense of beauty,

I remember the empty words I used to hear,

Messages trapped inside of bottles,

Pleading to be broken and let free,

But that would give the non-sense of a world,

Too much sensical meaning.

 

But now that I can’t hear words and I can’t see what brings them to life,

Every story that’s been trapped inside the bottle of my brain,

Has broken out of its chains,

And come to some sort of drunken life,

The bottle pours out and the liquid spills from my brain to my teeth,

And all I can feel and see in my primal state,

Is the beauty of its life,

Its poetry.

 

A film strip from my brain to my teeth,

I see colors for the first time in weeks,

Yet I don’t see a thing,

I remember everything so vividly for the first time in years,

Yet I can’t remember a thing, and all they can see is my tears,

Like a bird on a string I can sing,

But I can’t even begin to breathe.
I’m dying.

 

I’m dying.

 

And it’s the first time I’ve ever felt alive.

 

In my last scene,

Cogged in debating whether  I was just a cog in a machine of cogs,

Debating whether this is scene is a fresh start or an epilogue,

Reflective and hopeful, a gamut of emotions flowing systematically through my head,

Beautiful and crooked, but finally lucid,

I have no senses and finally I see,

The nonsense that this world has prescribed like drugs to me,

I have no life and finally I see,

That without life is the first time I’m actually living.

 

Yes, I remember it vividly,

The day they robbed my senses from me,

I was in a hospital bed,

And for the first time I had discovered breath,

The heist wasn’t planned and it wasn’t spoken of,

A black and white film,

In which the whole world was involved,

But, I remember the heroic struggle,

I remember it vividly,

The day I took back what belonged to me,

It was the day my breath ceased to be.

 

I’m dying.

 

And in this moment when I can’t feel a damn thing,

I realize the true meaning of all of this,

And the messiness of this everything,

And in this moment I can’t feel a damn thing,

And it finally feels like I’m living.

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