“Please, understand me
I’m climbin’ through the wreckage of all my twisted dreams
But this cheap investigation just can’t stifle all my screams
And I’m waitin’ at the crossroads, waiting for you
Waiting for you (where are you?)No one’s gonna bother me anymore
No one’s gonna mess with my head no more
I can’t understand what all the fighting’s for
But it’s so nice here down off the shoreI wish you could see this ’cause there’s nothing to see
It’s peaceful here and it’s fine with me
Not like the world where I used to live
I never really wanted to liveI know”
Guns ‘n Roses – Coma
Some people
Brave people
Interesting people
And full of interests
And passion
Human beings
(The only ones
According
To philosophers)
They like
To photograph
Volcanoes
While erupting
Volcanoes
Not them
But may be
…
Them as well
They get satisfaction
From getting as close
As you can
With planned
Escape routes,
Kevlar helmets
And means
To escape away
At the last moment
They get “the thrill”
And their “pictures”
Ends on the cover
Of National Geographic
So other
Say “normal”
People
(Or
The crowd
According
To philosophers)
Will have
Their microdose
Of Adrenaline
Just by
Looking
At a photo
Noble cause
I should
Say
That microdose
Microdosing
Never worked with me
I always needed
A maximum
Available
Spike of boost
But then
I learned
That climbing
An erupting
Mountain
May not be enough
I am not
Erupting
I found myself
Walking down
The crater
Seconds
Before the
Inferno
brakes loose
Not caring
About photos
And other
Human crowds
Just feeling
The trembling
Noise underneath
My feet
And maniac
Pounding
Of my
Heart
...
And I was
a fucking
lucky
idiot
then.
I saw then,
Others like me
Unlucky ones
Ground crumbling
Beneath them
And them
Bursting into flames
Screaming in pain
Of burning flesh
And soul
Disappearing
Quickly
If lucky
Or trying to crawl
Out
Half burnt
Half alive
In pain
I only got
Some
Minor
Burns
They were painful
Enough
To teach me
The lesson
I sometimes
Now,
Go on the edge
Of the cliff
And try
To throw
Them ropes
And if they
Hold them
I pull
That’s all
I can do
To remember
I’m grown
Up
Or
Old
You choose
So I look
Calm
Usually
Wise
Frequently
Reasonable
Sometimes
But I still
Miss that walk
And it’s not that
Occasional
Occurrence
…
The end of that
Occult
Occupational
Therapy
"Sempre Occlumency"!