Oh. Hey!
Lemme say –
As I’m on my way out,
Sans a sliver of doubt,
This whole deal’s been real
Killin’ time like the Ripper
There’s worse ways to waste space
Than chasin’ the sublime place to place
Beats the hell outta bein’ just another shitsipper
New horizons await
The daylight hours escape me
White Rabbit running lately
To make his date with Fate
Destiny has been patient
As I dragged my feet
Quiet evenings at home
While I roamed the streets
It’s impossible to tell
At the crossroads of heaven & hell
What the future may compel of my legacy
Will I finally conquer trauma
Or shall I succumb to defeat
Does closure await me
Or am I destined to retreat into
The safe haven solitary recesses of
My fractured psyche
Though the act of hoping will always be free
It’s a costly fool’s folly to tryan believe a
full recovery is any more than exponentially unlikely
on the precipice of experience
bordering the unknown
wild oats have been sown,
Still the classification “Full Grown” feels premature & unrealistically hasty
No one seems to know, where all the time goes as
we transform what we once were into what we’re to be
Sensing the end drawing near
The down shifting of gears gives rise to the inevitable inquiry
“What comes next?”
Rising above struggles & strife
The Ripper wants nothing more from life
Than to relinquish the knife
& relish respite from a life of evisceration
Exchanging a slower pace & less worry,
For a life infinitely less burry
No longer obligated to hurry
Fearing the threat of truncation
The Gypsy Tells It 