The Music of Choice

For God's sake, stop fucking my brain, and let me think!

Stop your needling, wheedling, badgering, flattering.

Stop your chattering, talking, stalking, balking.

Stop your veiled attempts at vile appeasements.

Stop luring me with your hidden agendas,

Your stupid commercials and your

featured advertisements.

(Just stop.)

Stop thinking for me,

Stop telling me what I want, (and let me

Want it for myself. For a change!)

Stop thinking like me,

Stop getting in my head,

(Unless you wanna end up dead!)

Stop playing games,

Stop unleashing your machines,

Stop sucking my mind dry.

Stop peering, leering, sneering,

At me with your devilish tools

To fuck with my reality,

Stop messing with my senses,

Stop foisting your illusions on me

To muck with my destiny.

Stop taking me for a fool.

Stop creeping into my skin

trying to make me

Or break me.

(Fucking stop.)

You think I don't know?

Lurking in the shadows

As sure as night follows day,

waiting to pounce on me;

waiting from before the beginning

of remembered  time,

Is the moment - the godawful 

moment of the ultimate, fucking truth.

That bloodcurdling moment 

when I will have to make a choice,

That dreadful fork in the path

Between desires and duty,

Between dreams and reality.

At that exact point in spacetime,

Leave me the hell alone.

Let me soak up the grandeur

of them all; every one of all those

humongous, glorious, terrifying

possibilities that exist at once

in a state of superposition,

in perhaps a billion universes -

(Call them multiverses if you will) -

 Waiting, in all their magnificence,

in all their suspended power and fury,

for that pesky little wave function

to collapse.

At that moment, when death may

seem the easiest way out, 

let me make my choice: my

Duty, that will, perhaps, be

a living death, or my

Dream that may change

life, death, and the whole shebang,

forever.

(Until then, shut the fuck up!)