Less Coffee, Checkers, and Other Drugs
So spit at me.
And Color me blind
Sing me deaf
Label me crazy.
Do what you will.
For now.
But know that each:
Comment
Quip
Insult
You think is adding to my tumult,
Is only giving me fuel.
Fuel to fight the impending duel
Which I know waits for me
Each day.
Not you.
You’re not that imposing,
Sure your grandeur is enclosing
But on a grander scale
You’re merely a pawn.
Life’s pawn.
In Life’s fucked up game of checkers mixed with Twister
That not even Life knows the rules to.
So, go ahead, spit way.
For all I know,
This is how you play.