We buy, we spend a lot of money trying to get the best bed… in order to forget about everything, including the bed, including your beloved… everyday fortunately you go into a state where you cannot take anything with you.
I clicked the link and watched the over-inspirational video and then everyone had hats…. that’s pretty pro but is there anything else?
I write in a rather comfortable place, my bed.
When I write, it’s therapeutic for my head.
There’s no denying the goodness of spilling,
Words from your thoughts people can’t contort
And it’s good to know I’m not killing.
Not in a war, not getting score,
Not getting laid, hardly ever wasted,
Where did my focus go, must have misplaced it.
If thoughts can get louder, why can’t they be heard?
I will say my line of thinking right now is absurd.
The thoughts parole from brain to page
Through vessels of ink contained in a cage
Of plastic, a tube, a wire connection,
Fixed to my brain, leaking a vivid reflection.
Put me on stage, I’ll entertain.
Put me in a ring, I’ll fight.
Put me in a stable, I’ll tend to the animals.
Put me in a college. Then maybe I’ll learn. But I don’t know. I won’t know.
Even if I do go I still won’t know so…
But put me in
A room with thee
And i’ll smother thee with kisses, make you my missus
And before long have you washing my dishes.
Good girl, there you are, a cup of tea will do you no harm.
"that sounds nice, can I have a bite?"
"No you can’t, but I’m sure you could have a feel of Terry’s new light that he got for the room today, feels pleasant doesn’t it? Like the cry of a bat."
"Well it seems Terry is keeping it all to himself. By the way I can smell your new picture from across the room… smells like how I would imagine a bear’s claw would as it slowly scrapes up your arm, not quite piercing the skin."
"Fuck it, my mind is blown with the confusion of senses."
"Yeah same, I feel like a pale blue and am almost audibly cautious of what I should say next."
"Man, shall we just go to bed?"
"If we must, night."
It was a dark night for Sam, as he trod upon soil of grave after grave.
His friends decided to leave him tonight
Because he misbehaved.
Now all he can do is wander, afraid,
That his parents might catch him!
Tired and alone, a ghost of a shadow,
A friend overthrown.
He did not want for his parents to see him this way as they were,
He heard, popular in their day.
So he ducked and he peaked,
Looking into the bleak,
Dreary night ahead.
Sam heard a noise,
He darted and thought about calling the boys,
But he remembered they left him to die in this place,
So a terrible evil, Sam alone, must face.
Grueling, dripping breath could be felt from the monster’s mouth
Sam imagined he felt.
Just an illusion he thought
And his mind went to rest.
Upon knowing that he was alone again
he stopped and began to cry for his friends.
If friends they may be called!
After hauling Sam out into the cold
as he sleeps then wakes and without being told
he lies in a bed reserved for the dead and the old.
Friends they are not, though they say they must be
But that fiasco was only momentary,
As they tricked Sam into smiling with Grace
Before dumping him into this God forsaken place.
He knew no way out for he slept when coming in
But something inside him knew where to begin.
He grabbed at a shovel and started digging,
Four graves he would make before retiring.
"One for them all!" He cried hellishly
Before turning to face his new legacy.
This one shall unfold, He’ll be the star of the show
But oh no, what’s this?
Stricken with woe?
Sam was always the nicest and kindest of boys
But too much rough treatment ruins the best of toys.
So Sam too was ruined and all soaking wet,
He realised this and tried to forget,
Why he believed he should purge his friends so,
They are only young and do not know
So, this, to them he will show.
He foresaw though, a lack of understanding,
Between him and his friends he had not planned on.
Now it felt like an aircraft was landing,
With the answers on board the results are outstanding!
Samuel had begun to see
why he made such easy company,
To trick, to poke, to jab, to choke and lead around on an endless rope.
You see some say he was too nice
But he found out he just thought twice
About every single thing he did
And now he had just made a lid.
To stop himself from over thinking when the choice is
There waiting to be made,
If you wait then both options start to become frayed.
Just try not to get too waylaid!
When making a choice, don’t be afraid.
So Sam on his own
In the graveyard alone
Decided he’d pass the time,
By sitting down at his grandfather’s grave, hoping not to humiliate
The gratuitous man now bourn in heaven
Watching down on the boy, age eleven.
Sam felt a sense that… that his grandfather was proud,
Proud of what he had learned before even turning twelve.
"Saaaam! Saaaaam!" Cries from far behind!
It must be my four friends Sam cried!
Sam kneeled in the shadow of the night
And smiled at the floor in spite,
Of the old man’s body being long gone,
It made Sam feel better that things earlier were wrong.
His friends patched him up, let him know of the joke
And told they were only round the corner with smoke.
Sam did not do that though, he was too pure
And it’s something his grandfather said never to endure.
So Sam’s unhappy night ended right there and then,
Happy and content, with four real friends.
What I do is:
I worry about the impressions I’m gonna make.
On people when I’m with them,
I just feel like I’m gonna make a mistake
Mistakes don’t even exist
It’s just a miscommunication of intention.
But still my body resists,
When I’ve said something I feel I wasn’t meant to.
People probably don’t even see
When I feel I’ve fucked up and go all quiet.
But it seems they do to me,
So I shut my mouth until there’s no longer a riot.
The riot that’s within myself,
Can’t stop it though I’ve tried so many times.
Turns out to just be thoughts
But why can I never really decide?
That’s just up to me I guess
To make whatever decision feels best.
But I calculate everything
To a point where I have every pro and every con.
And on both sides, both choices… It all feels wrong.
Too many cons. unworthy pros.
If I do something for a reason
It’s a reason that I know.