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.