Sleep

Death is upon me
I can see it walking pass me
I can feel it getting closer
As my eye lids strive to hold up
My body is exhausted
Fighting the stresses of everyday life
So I cannot move and counter death's next move
We are stuck in a chess match
Eventually someone will win
And somone will lose
In the end, we know it will not be me
Bloodshot. Eyes.
My senses are not fully receptive but I can smell him around me.
Hope and survival seem grim.
As I swing my hands in the air to fight the wind.
With no prevail.
I drink coffee and put cold water on my face.
Still I am half in a dream and in reality.
Goosebumps.
Please don't take me now.
I bitch. No longer a man.
As he looks me up and down
And grips my hand.
I am gone.
Into the world where things apear real but are not.
A dream.
A dream.
Like King.
I have a dream.
But will wake up from it? Ever?
"Sleep is the cousin of death"
Nas said.
So I must fight it. Until my unkown untimely last meet with him.
You...

I guess that's a little how I'm feeling this morning. Surreal. When everything finally feels in place the pieces get jumbled. It's all a fucking puzzle. I really don't blame life anymore but rather things in life that make it savage, that make it a jungle to live here.

I know I'm talking in like this poetic, unusual style so I really don't know how to express myself any other way. It's wild. I guess we'll see what happends.

I'm gone.
Jam