Go On

“You have to keep going, even when it feels like you’re shoveling shit from the sitting position.” -Stephen King When you open your eyes Turn off that damn alarm and start a long walk Slog left, slog right, slog left, yawn slog right Open the wood door Open the fridge and shut it Rip open that yellow silver salty cellophane bag Breakfast of champions Hit the road Hit the pavement Hit the ground running for your life To get to that place where you don’t want to be And get there on time Tick tock, plastic clock hands Racing the pit pat scritch scratch of secondhand Nike shoes Three seconds ahead Barely on time Heads up Heads down Nose to the grindstone Smell warm wood Burning, melting pencil lead What’s the biopsychosocial stance on Bill Shakespeare? How many stanzas are in a symphony of satire? Why should I work twice as hard tomorrow When it’s just another yesterday? Listen up Listen here Listen hard Life is hard, you don’t have to tell me. When you’re out looking in, it’s easy to see Hate because we hate what’s in the mirror Look down, look away Think what you can’t say Ignore what you can’t explain Tell yourself you’re ugly, disgusting, and worthless Then yell it at the first kid you see Scream so loud you’re silent Until he’s the monster, and you’re free When you’re done When you’re down and out When you’re home-free-all When the world is silent And you’re standing alone Waiting for everything to come alive beneath you and yourthoughtsareracinganddon’tmakesense andyouwishthey’dslowdownbuttheyneverslowdownandtheyCRESCENDOANDBURSTYOUR EARDRUMS and then fall And slow And stop. Don’t tell me you’re innocent Don’t tell me you “can’t’ Don’t tell me your life is boring. Were you too busy slogging to hear the creak of the floorboards? Were you too concerned with your tiny nose to notice that hair, poetically out of place? Were you so busy thinking about that ticking clock that you didn’t feel the rushing wind? Were you so busy marring your looseleaf with the mundane that you didn’t notice the Van Gogh in the desk before you? Were you so concerned with the labels stuck on you that you forgot how to un-tape them? Maybe if we all thought about that Maybe if we all decided to move on Wade through this wasteland and dry out this dreck And each one of us called ourselves extraordinary for one day Then, finally, Someone might have something worthwhile to say.