There's a trauma station and it's overflowing with the wounded. They hold their hands on the infected areas, the ones that hurt the most. Some have trouble walking, others are seeing double, while others are having trouble breathing. They are a sorry lot to say the least, you'd think they'd triage these lost souls and help those who are feeling it the most first. Sometimes the pain is so intense that if it was gone you'd miss it, you'd wonder how you survived without it. You'd wake up in the morning and feel like getting out of bed for a change, you'd feel weightless and it wouldn't seem right. You'd want to go outside and be seen by the world. You'd want to do more than just sit in your room and write idiotic stories that make no sense. The thoughts that you wasted on her would be gone and you'd think to yourself "who was she, what did I love about her anyways, how did she control so much of my mind?" You'd of course have no answer because your tiny brain has given up on those conundrums. One more time you've had to give up on those feelings that you loved so much. You tried though and I think you should get an A for effort and a gold star pinned into your forehead. If placed right it may eliminate that last little remnant of hope.
Your head used to be swimming in the blood that poured out from your heart, I mean, it has to go somewhere, the blood that is. We sure as hell can't have it pooling up in your stomach now can we. So it goes to the place that is used the least in times like these, the part of your brain that reasons, the part that looks past the present and revels in the future where it can be allowed to run the gambit again. If you ask me, it's probably living in a fantasy world, cuz you haven't given way to reason in ages. Have you ever come close to drowning in blood? It's kind of an odd thing to die by something that is such a life force. The thing is when love and hate collide hate always wins, it's almost like it has the ace up it's sleeve. I'm pretty sure it cheats to win, it's undefeated, you know something's amiss. The bouts could be rigged, that is a definite possibility, maybe love made a deal that it would go down in the first round in exchange for all the hookers in NYC. I really don't know.
There's always someone in control and we all know that you are the last one who should have that honor. You are more of a co-pilot on this mission and you're still trying to earn your wings, better yet you're a passenger who drinks too much and talks too much and is just too much. Either way, we're cruising, but the auto pilot was smashed by terrorists a long time ago. They were smooth and exact and they escaped, I think we got one in the leg with our hollow tipped bullets but I'll ever know, I was aiming through eyes that were blurry. So we hired a mechanic, but he came to work high so we axed him right before first break. We soon realized that he was the only one with the tools to fix this foreign piece of equipment. The mechanic was with the union you see and they've been on strike for something like 25 years now. There may have been some scabs willing to cross but you shooed them out around the same time you threw away the manuals. It's quite the predicament.
Wasn't there something about happiness somewhere amongst the dirty books and the dusty manuals in the back of your mind. I clearly remember a time when the word happy was in my vocabulary, but since then it's been removed from my mental dictionary. I made sure with the clerk that this one was the latest edition, he must have lied, they always lie to get a sale. Oh well, we can always look up words that will remind us of better times. I think we can all use a little nudge to remember those "better times". You know there's death and there's taxes but I think I'm more afraid of time. Not only can we not escape time but it can have a lot of fun at our expense. Then when we're on our death beds, we're begging for more time. Right now I'm begging for less, or for it to speed up for a change, but now I want it to slow down. The thing about time is that it is never right, it is never flowing the way we want and I think it likes it that way. I made a deal with time...let's just say the hookers in LA are still there.
