Friday, March 25, 2011

The Readiness (and then She happened)

The Readiness was there, it was everywhere

Magnetic, is how she happened,
An alternating essence, evolving every layer,
Dissolving suicidal cravings,
I knew, there right then, God indeed has plans for men,
 Over built and destructive to the soul, the dilemma quite atrocious,
When the creator has cradled his project,
Would not assign responsibilities to his team,
Then when the funding cut,
He had his baby but not much of what he did,
The razor was vertical,
Inches from impact,
Sweat tore holes through once distinguished clothes,
Quivering, twitching, having the hardest time steadying,
Then the cavalry marched on in,
Sent his son and daughter away for the weekend,
Couldn’t let them be the first to see,
Yet it appears his son left behind a piece of him,
The phone which some believed attached to his hand,
Perhaps it was not the moment, he may return before they came,
So instead he would choose to deliver the phone to him,
Then alone he could be, with his deadliest intention,
But as you know, as you’ve been tipped off to,
The best laid plans often fall right through,
On the path back home,
His children’s faces, they way they presented themselves,
Right there, at that time,
It’s like they were cognizant in an unfathomable way,
Perhaps his melodramatic words gave him away,
Perhaps, but as you know things don’t end this way,
Roads of tar, one way out,
Due to construction, a different avenue back,
A street one block over,
Could have been in California,
All this time, each day since passed,
This feeling so close,
A smile crept upon his face,
Puffy thoughts could not escape,
Random stumbling of the words,
Music loud, if you knew him, you too would find it absurd,
But all of this had fine reason,
Shaking feet, sweaty hands,
Veins screaming for injection,
Injection of her again,
And so begins a tale we all thought was done,
Yet through some well timed twists of fate,
This man shall experience, a truly new, a reason to be,
He shall embark upon a brand new second life, a season filled only with varying speeds

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