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This is not my first novel
But it’s the first line
If you think about your lifetime
Then you might be able to see
That the end and beginning are one in kind
Let’s forget what was said back in the days behind
Of how what came shall return
When the pages turn
And the images and icons burn
One by one they drop from your smartphone screen
And on your desktop computer wallpaper
Only words you will now see
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There were big windows in the house
He wanted to expand and made contract
With the powers at be
Meanwhile his kids were barely hanging in there
They were a sleep
And nowhere around was there a sound
Opportunities they were null in this town
And he felt his time on planet earth was coming to a halt
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In his skull
There was a receiver now
Telling him that on the path
Leading to his home
Someone with a sombrero
Had made an error
IN judgement about the dangers on the way
Expanding his mindstate
He felt like it was all fate
Didn’t even have the money for a milkshake
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This was the dead end life he lived
Meanwhile on some forgotten street
There was a man by the road side
Shoveling dirt in his sleep
From one hole into the next
He had been going through alot of stress
And losing sleep for months
Now his body acted on his own
Doing atrocious stuff
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He had been living in the life of luxury
Having access to the treasury
He was measuring
Himself against everything and each one
Unanswered call cluttered his phone
And then he took and drove on that desert road
Alone
Alone
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In his mind there sprang up a thought
Eventough these days were deadends
As a whole
If they were made into a chain
Maybe, just maybe it could heal the pain
And he wouldn’t have to turn back
Because he had been so invested
Pushing grooves in the running track
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And he could run fast
If he was no athlete
Despite the scorching heat
His athletic abilities
Were coming back full force now
And his visions in the mind
Were like rotten teeth in the whores mouth
Meaning that you had to yank them out
And make everybody see
The gallerist was amazed at what he saw in his dreams
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Now keep your hands stable
We could make millions if you are able
To separate the fact from fiction
Between these two words there’s a bit too much friction
And it’s not always about following the rules
Of proper punctuation and grammar
Sometimes the right nail is not made for the hammer
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