Time to Play GodA Poem by AtticusBlack
'When you attempt to eliminate risk from your life, you eliminate along with it, your ability to function.' - Fred Penzel.
The air around me becomes fuzzy, fuzzier.
My brain: a frantic, fearful chaos.
NOW! Deploy emergency procedures!
If possible, quickly make way to nearest private place -
A tumour is developing. I’ve got to check,
And quick, how established the cancer has become.
Will I die today? Perhaps not; if I adjust my disguise
I’ll be able to rid myself of disease, it normally works.
WAIT! My attire, something... not quite ‘right’...
(Andrew asks each week, what does ‘right’ mean?
What is perfection my friend? Perfection doesn’t exist,
Your brain has made perfect up, it’s fiction dear one)...
If out: cope, make excuse, leave early, anything -
If home: change the dilemma, rejoice!
Between the cracks, sir, you know the drill.
Between the leaves sir, you know the routine.
Straight lines, I said straight now, you know
Better than to ignore me nowadays, don’t you?
Lie in bed. Get out of bed, change, change it now.
Get into bed, ache beyond oblivion.
Get out of bed, change, change it now.
Collapse to the floor, it’s now I wish for death,
Rather than spend my life irrationally thinking
I can stop it. I laugh, as f*****g if, who am I, God?
© 2010 AtticusBlack
Shelved in 1 LibraryAdded on February 8, 2010
Last Updated on February 9, 2010
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