A moment kissed with life,
Forbidden from strife,
Was eaten by strife’s wife.
And after you licked the residue of that moment off your fingers, you idealistic doppelgänger of Freud,
You lifted your chin and stared at the jumbo-sized alp, overjoyed.
While savoring your role as my Schadenfreude,
With that smile buried beneath your bewitchery, as you belched burps of thrill,
You began your ascent as you swallowed your daily moral reduction pill,
Using steps made of women that only further lifted you up the hill.
A.K.A. That mound of shit we all know as your ego.
Where just above the peak hangs a sculpture of your face,
Suspended in space,
Which always seems to be the case,
For you are enlightened –
With a head too good, too proud for the level of the clouds.
No, you need more.
But, when I fell, you needed less.
“Like Jesus, Tay, I just need to be me without your stress – it’s harshing my mellow.”
But, instead I gave you more as you threw stones at the girl just trying to hold onto the ledge of your mountain,
And so I fell harder than I ever thought I could.
And my bones, my cracked supports, my brittle structure.
Couldn’t lessen the impact.
So I fell, and ate the pavement,
A meal that took the place of my moments you devoured.
But, even though my hunger subsided,
the emptiness of my chest overtook the satisfaction,
I had no more energy,
I couldn’t get up.
But it’s okay.
I was prepared, I thought.
I came ready for anything.
I had my life alert hanging around my neck,
Always tilted left.
And so I pressed it, for you promised it would work.
But, of course, it was defective.
The one thing I wasn’t prepared for.
So I threw it away.
Some things just aren’t worth recycling.