Pockets Full Of Nickels

Freedom! Is all I’ve desired during this period of hysteria. After all, who isn’t tired of an epoch riddled by ignorance and deceit while snakes dressed in a suit & tie poison the masses with fear?

After such vexatious warnings of a “dark” winter ahead of those who refuse to litter their bloodstreams with heinous lies now coming to light, I can’t help but bang my head on an imaginary wall until I KO on a bed of what-ifs.

“What if I did go get poked?

“What if everything went back to normal?”

“What if,”

I’d repeat to myself, over and over again, while smoking a blunt or joint rolled up hoping my anger would subside.

But, it doesn’t. Anger doesn’t just leave the confines of my dear heart. Anger seems to linger around for about however long it pleases. On certain days, it’s as if I have no say in regard to my choice between happiness and sorrow. Not only does it make my innards fume with rage and frustration, Anger tends to manifest in a shouting match against my inner child with all the intention to win nine out of ten times…

Yet, how can I truly relieve my mind of a train of thought that knows nothing but turbulence? No friends around. No family, just a bunch of people I’ve had no choice but to share a glass home with. How can you not feel angry nor hold resentment for the world around you? A world that forgot I was human the second my well of tears became too dry to drink from…

Then again, maybe that’s my way out. Breaking free from this Hell with another punchline struck through my walls of bitterness and pain as thick as all the iron and nickel Earth’s outer core has to offer. What else do I know as I sit down on the edge of my bed. Clueless as to what I should do next just, typing away sentences until my spirit deems me worthy to finally, rest…

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