Bloody Rivers and Corporate Dreams

1.30.15

Blood spills on a daily basis,
from all colors and all kinds and all people.

We all bleed.

No matter how dark or light
you are on the outside,
we all bleed red.

Our dreams all cry, weeping
for lost opportunities
and unborn imagination
because we can't even think
of how we'll get there.

Because we can see ourselves
at the top of the highest skyscraper,
yelling 'f**k you' to all the haters,
all the false hope makers,
grabbing onto the doubt and
the blood we bled out to get there
and just letting it fall.

But we don't know how we got there.

We don't know how many
tuxedo clad demons
and little black dress wearing
demonesses stood on the never-ending steps
to success.

We don't know.

We don't know how many
stubby little fingers
and little piggy toes
we had to step on to get there.

We don't know.

We don't know why the river
of blood, sweat, and tears
winding along behind us
is so full of everyone else's
blood that the only ones left
to congratulate us for making it
to the top, are the ones
who walked across the heads
of everyone else so they wouldn't
get blood on their leather shoes.

They drowned everyone else in the process.

We met the challenges head on,
but discovered that gaining control
meant giving up our lives.

We didn't know.

We didn't know that the constant
thought at the top of that tower
isn't one of pride.
We did it.
We made it.
And now it's just you vs the world
cause you stabbed all your
friends in the back
on your way to the top
and the world is full of sharks
with bear trap teeth and
car salesman grins,
ready to add your blood to their rivers.

We don't know.

We don't know why our bloody knuckles
burn with blood that's not our own.
We don't know.
We don't know why we're coughing up
blood from all of life's invisible punches.
We don't know.
We don't know why our blood
mixes into the river so easily,
and we realize...

we all bleed red.

And one day,
when that river of blood
and drowned emotions
is bubbling up around your feet,
ready to grab onto your soul
and never let go,
when both you and all the forgotten souls
are hanging on to that last bit of hope
that maybe you made a difference in the world,
that maybe you'll be remembered,
maybe one day you'll rise back up
from your red water graves
and just maybe take control.

One day...

But until then,
the outcome will be uncertain,
shoulders burdened with the weight
of observation,
with the knowledge of every
occurrence behind that corporate curtain
as the bloody river rises to swallow us whole
and bury us like the memory
of our once dear friends.

We don't know.

We don't know what will happen
or the fate of our world,
but as the blood turns our vision red
we will disappear with a final thought...

We will make them bleed.
We will turn their greed against them,
give them a taste of their own medicine,
armed with cliches and irony
we will walk across their heads with
bloody leather shoes,
an army of dried up 'gonnabes'
given new life through the blood
of our own.
With our pitchfork protests
we will spin a web of words
and trap them in their lies.
And with black widow bites,
we will make them bleed.