It's Everything But Me

It's the caffeine, the nicotine, the milligrams of tar. It's my office, it needs to be cleaned, it's my car. It's the fast talk that they use to abuse and feed my brain, it's the right and the left, faux facts, it needs a change. It's the pain, it's women and it's men. It's the plight for power. It's big government, it's what they've spent. It's the way you're given knowledge... slow, with thought control and subtle hints. It's rubbing it, itching it and it's applying cream. It's viva Viagra, it's four hours with high beams, it's in my dreams. It's the monsters that I conjure, self defeat, embarrassment, it's where I wander. It's my genre, Madonna's videos, it's game shows and cheap liqueur, it's a bumper sticker with rainbows. It's some angels, some demons, many Gods and white devils. It's the television monitor burying me like a shovel. It's gas fumes, fast food, Tommy Hill, Mars Ill, Columbia House Music club, designer drugs and suburban thugs. It may be the East Coast, no, it's the West Coast I don't know. It's government run public schools, it may be the Lotto. It's sleep, life and death, it may be speed, coke or meth. It's hay-fever, pain relievers, antihistamines, bad breath. It's in the air, it's in the water, in the meat. It's indirect, indiscreet, inconsistent, incomplete. It's in the streets, every city everywhere you go, and every man woman and child, it's everything you know. It's the insanity and the fantasies, the casualties of war. It's Sean Hannity, the DNC and GOP and it's a bore. It is the welfare system, creating welfare victims. It's television religion and it's false ways of living, it's the prisons. It's wondering if you get to eat, it's the heat. It's the winter and the weather, it may be Herpes and that's forever. It's a virus that takes the life of the weak and the strong. It's the drama that persists inside the storm. It's a hunger for attention, and those that doubt redemption. It's prevention, that's the first solution, it's mental pollution and public executions. It may be a part time job that governs what you can afford. It's the taxes that I pay, so that babies can be aborted. It's my fear, it's my faith, it's been betrayed, it's the form of a check that was supposed to stimulate. It's the economy, wait a minute, it's a thought. It's all of the trinkets shipped from China, it's U.S. workers loosing jobs. It's the Dollar, Yen, Pound, it's all denominations, it's receiving hourly wages for your professional observations. It's on your face, it's your eyes. It's a frown, it's a lie. It stretches for about as far as the eye can see. All of this is reality, and it's everything but me. -Ray VanderLouw (Inspired by "Scapegoat", written by Shaun Dailey).