Just Saying

Hey poor boy from the far 80s Was it 16 or 17 when you got stuck? You dug a hole so deep and fell in it. Agreed it was warm , protective except that your whole adulthood was blocked . You had your chances , you had your talents you let them rot . And now you ride on that red flying horse among young bloods too much smoke , too much old bones. Some evil child once told me , he took you to the crazy house and he felt your use of erotic images was overboard. He laughed at you , but I didn’t because only a monster would celebrate any pain coming from the guts of a friend . Shame I said nothing , but again like you would say : -it wasn’t my business but your mistake . And now you walk on flimsy panels of concrete and now you stalk and now you cuss. And now you talk about little girls that ate too much candy , you call them sad because you get it . You see, I know you ate all that candy too, but instead of reaching for the light you dug that hole and paralyzed your soul . And that is how , I find myself relentlessly entangled in your monologue . There is no shame in cutting heads of bratty player boys . What killed the cat was not curiosity but hateful words . And from those I gave them none . So dear poor boy from the far 80s , become a man , untie your soul , Happiness , sadness, that is your choice. My incantation: I wish you gone . Never pick fights with a survivor, in life , only one time the heart is broken and after that , the flesh gets rough and we start over . there are no schemes but only freedom to love again , to fail again , to celebrate the everlasting beauty of not giving a damn anymore.