Strange Hobby

Lament not

you are a changed man,

not amongst

the ranks of the rich and famous

(did you really want to stand in the limelight

bathing with those in your own dirty bath water of self worship

splashing around with those who want to be like you?)

would you want that for them, to scrub your back in that kind of tub?

should anyone aspire to be like you

having acquired such a strange hobby?

you must indeed moan in spiteful regret, for not listening to your voice

instead of those big-mouthed braggart a______s who used you and

cast your soul down into the muddy waters.

You tried to have fun

didn’t you?

but, when you are honest with you,

but you don’t know precisely how to do so,

but if you did,

 you would know you really didn’t

have real fun

because everything had its own dreadful story.

you got old by definition because the ‘fun,’ changed…

We keep trying to be ourselves,

but the self we try to be is never quite grown spot-on.

unbeknownst to the many,

It always happens that way.

It is our purpose to change

and forget how terribly creepy we used to be.

you must be ashamed about something you did?

Are we ready to transform?

We seek that undefinable feeling

we can’t hold onto.

(everything we do gives us a feeling)

We drink

we sober up.

We pray

we have a glimmer of hope for a while

then we go back to real life

without answers or solution

(often nothing comes, but there are more hard lessons until the universe

decides we are hopeless, then no more come and then

you learn praying is only talking to yourself…)

We love

we don’t get enough back.

We do, while the other lazy slobs sit and do nothing and gawk, watching us work while they smirk.

we go on vacation and return to

ourselves and our much less improved lives the way they were before we left

(and, we always find that nothing changed.)

We don’t get to take anything with us but cloudy memories

of days past happenings and remnants of how we once felt when we were younger.

god told you a few things you missed while you weren’t paying attention…

You are the man who saw his own ghost.

You woke up and looked in the mirror and your face was deformed.

You asked others, but they wouldn’t look you in the eyes, but they said your face was normal.

(pretend this is god talking, below…)

You prayed to me (god) and saw what I wanted you to see in the mirror.

You saw that your eyes betrayed you once more

because you believed what things men tell you are truth.

(god stopped talking. this is me, now)

everybody’s looking to catch a feeling,

but you can’t catch it.

It comes and goes when it wants and steadfastly as it will

slipping like a fish in your hands back into the murky drink.

so, you cast your cruddy fishing line once again

out, out, out and it plunks down…

you look back in the past to catch an old feeling and

it’s never the same

because you are not the same

(but, as usual, you are to blame.)

the reason you should believe in yourself is because when you are on your deathbed

(and only then, you will be as grown up as you can possibly be in this lifetime

for you will finally know you were right all along about everything you feared was true

when enrolled in middle school)

So now, you have just landed in the hospital and have been in intensive care for two or three days…

there was a voice that busted out of the wall when you were in your hospital room on your deathbed with relatives weeping (some indifferent, some laughing, some glad you were kicking the bucket, some hoping you had a will with their name on it…)

(but, no one knows you are broke, but you. Now, me)

The voice from the wall now whispers…

“Hey, idiot! when are you going to start thinking for yourself!”

“Uh, I’m still working on it,” you say.

(everyone in the room looks at you)

You look up at your IV dripping fluid in your vein in your arm and it feels cold.

“You mean, you are just trying this thinking for yourself stuff on for size?”

You say, “Yeah, it’s a new thing, I guess…”

“Still trying to trap that old feeling?”

“How did you know?”

“I heard it through the grapevine.”

“Hey, are you god?”

“What do you think?”

“Hell, how would I know?”

“tell me more my son…”

“I can’t hold onto it, it seems to keep slipping back to the past,” you say.

“Why don’t you go back to the past and live in it!”

“I could, if I would!” you say.

“Well, here’s one wish…”

“You mean you are not like the genie who gives three?”

“Feel lucky you get even one wish, my son.”

You close your eyes, but you don’t believe it’s god, and you open your eyes…

(during you talking to that invisible someone, someone in the room got freaked out and called the nurse)

He’s gone.

the voice is gone.

you look to the wall.

(you realize that the Demerol must have been making you hallucinate. the nurse enters and looks at you and you nod. she turns and walks out. Everyone else looks at each other, then, at you. the old nurse lady knows you are OK because she talks back to invisible voices, too. You’ve discussed this matter with her, yesterday. she’s your kind. a very special kind. special like you)

And, there you are once again (as usual) left all by yourself with your own scruples.

you didn’t realize there was a group of your relatives you hadn’t seen for years standing around

your hospital bed.

two people seemingly joined together in the room say,

“I think he’s dying, because he’s talking gibberish to a ghost.”

you correct them…

“I am talking to God, well, I’m not sure it was he, but he’s giving me my one wish. who gives wishes, the IRS!”

(Surely, not those lying two-faced Democrats!)

those two turn and look at each other and walk out of the room.

In the hallway they talk.

They look at each other and say at the same time and echo all the same words,

“Hey, I think uncle Fred is goanna be alright! He’s got such a strange hobby showing up in the hospital and putting such a scare on everyone who couldn’t care less if that S__T head lives or dies!”

(I forgot to tell you that you got named Uncle Fred)

As you will find out, these two in the hallway are the Siamese adjoined twins you always heard about, but never met until today, who were on your mother’s side. You didn’t catch on because you had been sleeping a lot and can’t focus your eyes. Anyway, you need your bifocals on to see what you need to see sharply. But, as usual, you have misplaced them. You know, as they always do, will show up when you least expect it in some unexpected place

like in your cat tree because it fell out of your pocket when you were picking up kitty…

the nurse pops in the room and all heads turn…

“You will be getting out  in a couple more days, Uncle Fred!”

she turns and leaves.

(most in the room aren’t too happy about hearing that.)

so now, you know for certain you will get out in a couple more days.

they will wheel you out in the wheel chair and drop you off on the sidewalk.

hopefully, someone will drop by and give you a lift and you

do have a place to live.

you will be alright.

you won’t get your wish,

but you can always read about those in the library if the librarian can find a book about who have

gotten their wish fulfilled.

(invisible people rarely keep their promises, and are not obligated to do so…)

you will keep getting hay fever when you thought it was a cold.

and then, one day in the future, you will actually die in the hospital and you

won’t be able to depend upon who shows up for moral support.

What, you thought dying happened to everyone else?

What if one Siamese twin was a Republican and the other was a…?

(My lord, it can’t be, it’s a walking talking He-She Mongoloid!)

I think they’re goanna make the split.

(Oh, god forbid, Let’s not go into all the gory bloody details of a great divide!)

Quick, look!

the mighty wind hit the hair swoop of the one twin like wind on a sail ‘poofing’ it out.

Oh, my god!

the worst bad hair day, ever in recorded history…

well, at least he isn’t a pathological liar.


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