Six Thousand Days in an Hour

If I could put all my experiences to pen
How and why would it end?
How would I express
Thoughts of impending death
At the tender age of five?
How would I describe
Fear I wouldn’t survive,
And anxiety that would persist
While I tried to imagine that I did not exist?

How could I go on to tell
Of the intoxicating pride I felt
Imbibing in utter insanity-
Needle to the flesh depravity?
The elation I felt of accomplishment,
When all I had accomplished was jails, institutions and death?

So many scenes of just you and me
Music playing so mysteriously
Eyes interlocked hypnotically
Would anyone wish they could have been me?

And then would anyone laugh
If I told them about kites
And smuggling a stash?
Could someone get on stage
And recreate the debasement
Of defecating in a cage
Or relay just how difficult it became to disengage?

Six thousand days in an hour or four
Six thousand days, perhaps would take  more.
Only you and I know the score!
It’s all something I should have said before…

Something in the back of my mind-
That vague haunting feeling
Insidiously seeping inside.
Memories that want to speak
Are slowly losing their voices-
So many debaucherous choices
So many peace’s to seek!
Where does serenity reside?
I Kept the twilight reeling
And watched you concur everything you could find.

That would be a novel in and of itself!
How could anyone bare anything else?
But I would have yet to tell
Of all the things that I said
Or the times I should have been dead.
What have I done to the best part of me?

My life is longer than War and Peace,
An eight part epoch
That might make you sick.
Chapters of laughter and shame
And endless potential washed down the drain.
If you listen closely after a rip
You can hear the ghosts speaking their truth in there.

Six thousand days in an hour or four
Six thousand days maybe a little bit more
But throughout every blessed new day There is one thought that keeps me going,
One irrevocable truth!
My life has been anything, anything but boring.