Is there a way to live in which I could be happy?

A little less searching for the next great event?

A monochrome set of just so happenings…

A button-down, tie-up tight existence,

With no new adventures into the unknown?

Can you deny your very nature…?

And suck up the tawdry dry dust of existence?

A risk-free, trussed-up, turkey baster life,

Drip fed experiences by rote…

A feint-lined life drawn by numbers?

Singing along to soldier-straight anthems,

Standing when they stand,

Believing what they believe…

With no tickle in the throat,

When the words of acquiescence dry…

No. Fuck that.

Happiness is not to be found there.

Nature denies me that.

I have to live a visceral life,

Normality sucks the blood from my veins,

I cannot follow the beat of any drum,

But my own…


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