Life is a Mountain
My boss told me I was hired and fired today and I quit.
He smiled and I spit and we shook on the deal.
The king and queen were there to keep the peace with sand up their ass.
There was only one escape.
Though I was asked to use the door, I began to tunnel.
I dug and I tunneled, leaving behind a pile of loose soil and fingernails.
My boss and the king and queen just stood back and laughed.
ďLet the little spastic tunnel if he wants to.Ē
I tunneled, to the trees, ďThe trees will set me free!Ē I thought.
I hopped a train, a cargo train!
And with a stomach full of rats and raspberries, I made my escape.
Soon drinking and shitting rats, one side of the room is going left
and the other side is going left.
I fall flat on my face.
Iím just not tall enough for this world.
I lie and rest for a moment in a hole in my bossís office.
My co-workers have all crowded around for a look by now.
Itís a hopeless state.
Thereís just not a successful bone in my body.
I canít function.
Itís all I can do to dig a tunnel and hop a train in the trees,
running and drinking, shouting at myself.
But alas, there are no trees.
And there is no train either,
except for the one thatís been running through my head all my life.
They say that climbing the mountain of life is easy.
One step at a time, one day at a time.
But my days and my steps trip over each other.
And I fall all over my thoughts like onto a dusty old abandoned mattress in the desert, poof!
The dust twinkles in the sunlight.
It floats restfully.
In a rare moment of clarity,
I lie and breath as the dust settles into my open eyes.
In the game of life and time, I am but a firework,
a short-lived, random burst of confusion and noise,
and not a pretty one at that.
The king gives me a hand and escorts me to the door.