Stretch

Like a band around the neck, overstretched, suffocating the victim to the death toll it wish it ever knew.

I can't sleep again. This merry go round steps up the ladder to the attic the place I contemplate the screwed up job someone didn't quite finish.

Sis told me of the news from afar off. News of a broken man lying in the cold urn right next to the ashes of my grandma. It was 2 weeks too late and the procession had already played its last note, packed up and gone home.

She also suggested it was a waste of my time and youth. This struggle and hand to mouth slavery.

She doesn't understand. And I'd perform surgery if I could to make her understand. But some of us never have the gift or sometimes called curse. A gift can be a curse or a blessing. A unique vision that could destroy the way you look at the world or levitate you to the next level untouched by mere mortals.

This life is a moment on lease. A life in time that will pass and no regrets will ever bring it back. It's not about me. It's about the generations after. What legacy will I leave them to carry on the dream and vision and burden?

Now I just wish I knew sleep at the right moments. Or maybe sleep is just a waste of time and my body is resisting. Let the revolution begin.