turn

unforgiving clocks,

first chances only,

it's you versus eternity--the a daily ritual

this is your slow death. it's in classrooms

and boardrooms and bedrooms. it's in casinos

and bars and behind couches, and in lonely

alleys, and in cardboard shantys.

recently it's

been staring at you from behind a screen. stealing

you, piece by piece.

it's the struggle fought since the dawn of man

and beasts and birds and it's never been

won, but everyone is forced to try.

those who struggle are emembered--

they cheat the system. evade death.

so you better put up a good

struggle--knock him out, a broken

nose, a black eye--do something--

there are no rules here, you how it

will end. cheat. lie. hide.

kick him, knock him, leave

him unconscious, in a filthy gutter behind

a mini-market--let him fall

into today's rain, yesterdays newspapers,

and the dark corner of your memory.

then start running. sooner or later he'll find you.

don't live half a life. don't throw half away.

run, fight, run and run like I do--always

trying to escape this lower state of existence.