Dennis Watson

Unsettled, by Dennis J. Watson

Your development is irrelevant… Besides make suggestions that most follow, human etiquette is the heaviest the devil did… They say that he was God’s favorite angel… Creator of music, but a hunger for more is what enslaved him… Damn, how many of us have disobeyed our parents at one time or another? How many of our parents want to creep in our rooms while we rest grab a pillow & begin to smother? Life is a muthaluva ain’t it? I never felt my mother loving me, so I never believe it when she stated, those 4 letters… Once this concrete jungle grew bars there was no more phone calls or letters… I bet if I went back in time to tell myself what was to come I’d do better… Instead of being left for dead in iceberg wind in only a sweater… I bet my life on it that if this happen twice I’d be the same in the end… Bullseye shot in the dark, but I’d win it all if I as a gambling man… I thing I can’t stand, is when people don’t follow through with their promises… I didn’t really expect you to do a damn in all honestness, so how can I be disappointed… Seems like I’ve been conjoined with someone whose a glutton for punishment… The fastlane came & went several times in, so I never wanna rush again… Sins of the father fall faster, then awarded… I’d be something I believed in if I was anything but Moorish… The Taurus within my Aries scares me to death sometimes but prepares me for life because they both have hardheadedness… The result sometimes is very disrespectful, like being called a nigger to my face by the president… My stomach has never settled from vendettas I’ve had in my past… Taking everything with a grain of salt, with my open wounds they threw in scolding bath full of Epsom… Having a daughter that doesn’t want to communicate at all makes me feel less than, a father… My eyes water but crying is harder than Chinese trigonometry problems… Honestly hiding the obvious that something inside of me is bothered… All I hear is, try harder… I’ve given it all with no returns like a Walmart service desk… Compacted fear & nervousness in the shape of female cervixes, so I enter slowly… As I look at the reflection of myself I just try to figure out what he owes me, an explaination? Several times I’ve tasted the bitter along with the sweet scent of defeat but I never retreated once… I just stitched myself back up, poured up jack & lit up blunts… Layed down in a pile of my allies bodies & I ain’t sit up once, Or I would’ve died that day… My eyes can speak the saddest that agony has to offer once my lips lose what they try to say… Some things are better left unsaid… Barely alive in a mausoleum left to snack on maggots with the undead… I try to look past what people say but sometimes, it gets to my head & hurts my heart… Just to know you led me on this long & never believed in me from the start… We parted ways, with nothing to be mentioned… It makes me think twice as hard about human true intentions… I’m the best invention that this world has to offer, so send me back to my ashes no need for expensive coffins… Often I daydream about how it would be if I were given an easy road to walk on… I’d just be another trap set for me to fall on… It’s like life can strong arm rob you without a weapon to brandish… I try not to count my chickens before they hatch, & see what’s left to scramble… I think I’ve handled things better than a lot of people in these circumstances… But these circumstances are enough to pacify Manson & every last follower… I’ve listened to enough Lynn toliver & bobby rush… To calm myself to simmer & make a woman with the darkest complexion blush… I must say, that the disgust I’m faced with is less beautiful than sun rays… The human plague spreads, & cannot be cured, contained, or controlled… We fold ourselves in half with outlandish expectations… Thinking we’ll be safer deep within the congregation… The mess becomes greater, then having your skin shredded like breakfast hash potatoes… My halo was bent in half a long time ago… I was darkened to the point my inner light would never glow… Until I chose, & premeditated to kill the expectations & then I froze, like it was something I’ve never done before… The potted meat within my skull is the aftermath of a lobotomy to undergo… I know, but I chose this treatment… Land dwell my entire life just to find the deep end & leap in… I have no friends anymore… Funny thing about that is, once there truest colors hit the spectrum there was no more war… Knock until your knuckles bleed from splinters I’ve just closed that door… Pour glasses of my heart, but you’d rather just smash the bottle spilling its contents… I’m still unconvinced from what the unreliable has previously promised… I’m sick, without any symptoms really its just a figure of speech… The direction that life has neglected to inform has left me, unsettled…

Dennis J. Watson
DOC #A632936

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