The Distant Boat

There is a fight going on free to air right now. Fight for my existence. My existence in either.

The metaphors on screen are just too uncanny. Too similar to what's going on inside. The drone of the black hawk, the cresecndo of the orchestra, the fear of the men on the ground and the lives of innocent wasted at the energy of the few.

My time is not up. My life is just beginning. The light at the end of the tunnel seems to fade out of sight and my eyes are still peeled believing the flicker is just a moment of weakness.

The darting bullets are the ammunition of legislation. Sometimes I wonder why we need to ask for permission to exist. Democracy is not that far away from Monarchy it seems.

Inside, there is a world full of hatred, full of darkness, full of blood stained cities. Inside the man lies a strong stride that pushes away the evil, pushes away the unending force, refusing the acknowledgement of an easy solution that reeks of compliance. What does it mean to comply anyway? I just want every fucker out there to get off my back and let me get on with my life.

30 years of missing every good class act boat is quite enough. Quite, quite enough. There's suicidal notes everywhere and it's depressing. What in the world is going on? I'm not meant to die young.