Scar tissue expands every day on my wounded mind.
Sometimes I feel nothing. Denial? Remission?
Sometimes I feel everything. Projection? Frustration? Anxiety?
Scar tissues spreads and strengthens me and weakens me.
Sometimes my past will pop up and surprise me.
“Hey how ya doin?”
“Great. How are you?” *Stutter and shake*
Chocolate shake. Fuck you. I want vanilla. I always want vanilla.
“Livin the dream” *Shimmy, shimmy shakes*
Shimmy my ass. You’re dream must be simple. You must be simple. Fuck your shimmy, shimmy and your Goddamn shake.
“Oh. That’s great I guess.” *Reelin and rockin*
Ahh.. that’s better. Reeling and rockin… Not living or dying just kind of rockin.
“Yeah man. I am so filled with gratitude for my wonderful life.” *proud statement loosing confidence*
“Yeah? Me too. What are you so grateful about?” *Twisting and shouting*
“I woke up today. The sun is shining. I have love. I have friends.” *it goes on and on and on and . . .yeah*
Doubt and reconsideration of this fool standing before me. Too evasive. Too general. Hides the scars and pain and the past. Denies it.
“Are you grateful you took a shit?’ *sarcastic laughter held in*
“Wha. . ?” *confused by ninja verbal dance moves*
“Are you grateful you found a dollar to buy some food?” *humility or self righteousness (can’t tell)*
The past faded away as I questioned and hustled and even disco ducked..
Hope or hopeless. Doesn’t matter if I remain in motion. Mental motion. . .Keep going and no matter the scars or the past or the pain, the spirit is well. Always is if I tap into it. Do the twist. Shake it out baby. Shake, rattle and roll.
You know how it is, Rockin and rollin and what not.
You cna live your dream. I’m living my life. It’s worth every scar.