I am annoyed at the mirror of myself.
Painting time on the walls. Only I forgot the second coat.
Restless and weak my will stands still.
Understanding the battle is just over that hill.
I have no time to let that old paint dry.
I claw and scratch to let it go on by.
I draw breath in this hapless shell.
Wondering if I will ever go to hell.
I close my eyes and peek around the corner.
The carnival rides and dunking tank are attractive glitter.
I approach with fear and trepidation.
I grab a ball and throw it as if I was Nolan Ryan.
I hit shit and the ball slows with a thud.
What does this say about my faith?
Jack and shit?
My help shall come.
From that battle over that hill.
I crack my knuckles and wait for the fight.
I sweat and the beads collect at the corners of my mouth across my mustache.
I whip my brow and face and flick the sweat on the floor.
I am exhausted from waiting.
I get up am go looking for that fight.
There was God smoking a Camel and leanin’ on a wall.
Our eyes met and the light stick was tossed as more knuckles cracked.
God said, “ boy you gonna fell this in the mornin’!”
As if I was Sue and God was the one that named me, we fought.
In to the night…cut, slash, and crack.
I got my ass kicked.
But I fought back!
And unlike the man named Sue I did not win.
I lay there tired and restless.
God kicked my ass again and I want to get even.
There goes the pompadoured divinity sauntering away.
Turning back to me God says, “Son you I have let you live so you may fight another day.”