Nothing really frightens me anymore. No matter how far or fast I walk toward the Sun its feels as though a storm is constantly stalking my back. I have become a grim reaper of the party. The only guy they will listen to but not until they have gone over the edge. What that edge is only they could know. The happiness illusion for rattled souls. Put here as an ease of mind to know that one day they will have a home. One day they will become doctors or politicians. They will have husbands or wives and children. One day they will not be like me. Hope driven, over read, paranoid, sarcastic, and a chalk full of attitude mother fucker. Over analytical, quick to judge, hard to impress, and better off alone somewhere. Burning with green flame like an aluminum can tossed into a campfire. Toxic.
Nothing really frightens me anymore. Guns, knives, drugs, cancer, genocide, suicide, murder, Armageddon, or death. These have all become welcome signs that we will always rise up through the filth. That we are in fact still alive. Breathing through the shit and still colonizing like insects. As glib as that may sound this means that we still have hold of our heads. We can still silently cling on to that far away dream. The hope that whatever we believe freedom to be could still very well be in the distance for us. When that one day comes I will be there. Smug with a childish grin on my face. Prepared. Either for death or enlightenment but none the less, prepared.
Hunt me down Van. Swing that axe hard. I have been watching movies in your house and all I wanted was to simply meet you. You chased me down like a wolf and all the while I was staring directly into your eyes. Hunt me down. Show me I still have something to fear.
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