Living My Loudest

We spend our overwhelmingly long, yet cripplingly inadequate lives

In worlds constructed by a matrix of soothing, monotonous, beguiling familiarities.

My head now throbs along to one of Beethoven's more jarring tunes

Right at the point where it's been sledgehammered

Into the recesses within me

That all my dreams must do

Is be 'attainable', that they must

Blend so seamlessly into the mundanities inhabiting my reality,

That they're barely distinguishable from each other

As they sashay together along to some primitive tango.

But I have not acquiescent, for it would've been easier,

Less thorny to have been.

Call it self inflicted pain if you will,

But I've engineered, tailored my reality to match my dreams

Never the other way round,

For even if all of life were nothing but

A Machiavellian scheme to prove me

The most ignominious mite of the lot,

I'd rather that my defiant screams reverberate around the void,

Even as I fall through the abyss - a burning, blazing mess

Then close my eyes in the cool shade of subservience and oblivion,

Keeping my head lowered

And hope a lifetime shall pass before the ache in my neck gets unbearable.

I'd rather go down fighting, a guerilla warrior,

With a kamikaze attack

Smack in destiny's cruel, leering face.