Last night was the first time I saw my Cardboard Cuts
Scarred scabs sat upon skin scathed by Papered Rub
I paused for a moment and processed the fact
That I’m now working full-time, trading free-time for greenbacks.
For a moment I was sad, then in the next one, impressed.
“Have I now become a man?” I felt a need to beat my chest.
And in that moment, I presented myself with an inquest:
“Could that clamoring of skin on skin link me to my cave-dwelled kin
And cause my work-numbed human brain and heart to burn like Promethean Flame?”
Which led me to the realization that the only way to really tell
Would be to construct a vehicle like the one ‘scribed out by H.G. Wells
And so I took my mind away from that and turned back toward the Face of Apathy.
Took only moments to be reminded of why I view that Mirrored Surface as a tragedy…
At times I really wish I could care more,
And, with the passion of a Berserker brightly burning,
Blast through the Divide between ground and sky
And reach for aspirations orbiting distantly around my insides,
Kind of like a child climbing cupboards to get what he’s been barred from,
No longer will my stature or age determine if I can get some.
I’m going to go from where I am to where I ought to be
From nominal to normative, have you ever taken Philosophy?
I haven’t yet, but next year, I likely will
Since my girlfriend has the book and FREE is the very best deal
‘Cept for one step further known as FREEDOM, which escapes me.
When I arrive home from work, I collapse into my bed sheets from fatigue.
And while these sheep bounce around on my eyelids and I count them,
My heart keeps beating to pump blood to my passions,
But my passions only breathe in my dreams
Because in the daytime, the “real world” drives nails and sacrificial themes
DEEP into my palms as if the world’s completing a mission.
Sadly, I’m the world’s favorite victim of the newly concocted Cardboard Crucifixion.
The REAL Tommy Maverick 