I Am GoinG HomE

Sometime Somewhere... I think really hard and my thoughts don't go any further. Somewhere thats where I am. Crawling through muck of previously dumped years of lies, of wearing masks, of trying to be someone else. I have put myself into this. Now the minds racing, the world is moving too fast, twisting, twirling, emotionless. I have numbed my thoughts so much that this stench, the muck means nuthing.

The other day, driving to office, we get hit by a speeding motorist. I didn't even bat an eyelid. It seemed routine to go, check his pulse and see if he's alive. Luckily he was alive, unconscious, but alive. It would have taken a whole packet of cigarettes, and thoughts to have calmed me a few years back. but well, i just sat next to him in the car and kept speaking to him to keep him awake. and i spoke like it affected me not a bit, and it actually didn't.

Now the mucks all over me, drowning me. My lungs have gotten filled with it. There is the yellow hard ones from work. The brown sticky ones from my personal life. Yes you know which personal life. there is the really oily glistening one from my financial life... a whole lot of shit that i was carrying around. and now when i sit amidst all of this; the one thing that strikes me - Why the Fuck did i Hold on to so much when it was just a matter of a flush away? What the Fuck was i thinking?
And now surrounded by it all, a thought occurs... bail out dude...
bail out????
*The one with the all knowing eye, winks the only eye he has...*
*In the quiet, stillness and cold of the night, i watch with awe the singular eye wink at me... "Is he trying to tell me something???" Or "Is he mocking me, me surrounded by my own shit..."
retch retch retch
And i actual loathe every bone every muscle every tissue that makes me... I can pour out the very blood that runs cold within the veins, so cold that it emits warmth... false warmth... warmth that is comparative, relative... ha ha ha - bullshit.
Thats what it comes to, bull shit - false promises, but like in bloody hell, who promises anything??? you count everyday, every hour, looking for redemption and then one wonders what went wrong??? (For Sanity's sake wake up... there's nothing wrong) Wasn't it me who looks at everything like just another issue to be tackled??? there is nothing that can go wrong... Face the shit... stop sitting around in it trying to warm that cold blood... maybe someone should tell you that even a straight slap to the face can warm the blood...
The next thing he wakes up sweating... not surrounded by shit anymore... but was it to mean anything. the accident really happened. He was indeed surrounded by shit all over. the world is in recession, the salaries seem slow and frustrating, the one who should understand doesn't. Its time to break free... he sits straight on the bed... next to a T, a pack of cigarettes, rolling paper, a glass of port wine, a bottle of whiskey, a sketch book and charcoal, a guitar behind... he picks up the phone... something that should have been done long ago...
"Hello, I am going home... to the place I belong..."
Freedom at last... the rest, and nothing else matters.