Spoken Word

 

"I love the way you lie."

Spoken word from the madman himself. I fired my interpretor by the way.

I distinctly remember smelling a breakfast consisting of maple bacon, scrambled eggs and syrup covered pancakes when I casually woke up under my own power most days as a small child. I vividly remember the majority of words being kind and of good nature being shot-putted my way on a daily basis. I remember my family showering me with smiles that told me I didn't owe them anything back and a confidence that anyone would pray for even if it was every once in a while. I remember blindly fitting in no matter what the picture painted for said day, said month, said year. I remember it being easy. I remember it being less than contrary because I had a family that shamelessly protected me from the world we live in. Then, always. All ways. I remember smiling at my smaller cousins' 8 year old birthday parties because it made them feel a way internally that was positive. I remember my grandmother holding my hand as we crossed the street in the middle of a busy intersection. I remember being made to feel SAFE.

Change disrupts us all though, right? Or is it the inept feeling of thinking said change will never come or even happen to you? Maybe we're all actually selfish to begin with. Or maybe I'm just old and hold too much faith in the future being something of value. To me. To you. To everyone watching the proceedings.

I like what I like and I try my best to accommodate. I also fiendishly dislike any and everything that thwarts my way of thinking. Everyone wants a believable story, so maybe I should explain it to all of you. I am very cautious in this walk, trust me, as I wouldn't lie to you for clout, aims and/or to cripple my morals. Or that lack there of. OR VIEWS.

Time has always troubled me because everyone's explanation of the term or concept is never the same. To be honest, TIME hurts my feelings. Who knows how long we're going to be here or even in this wonderful organization that allows us to express ourselves freely for other people to judge? Who knows if tomorrow I lose my job to injury as a professional wrestler and are no longer able to perform to the level where I feel competitive? Who knows anything to be frank? But yet, we sit here and overact like we know everything under the vacation the sun, moon and malignent stars because some book told us so? 

Unfortunately, that makes absolutely NO sense to me. And I don't say that to say I'm some phenomenon that is here to educate. I'm just presenting the questions you or nobody else actually don't actually know the answers to. 

A decent family, some loveable kids we get to go watch play soccer every other weekend, a house that fits your needs and means, a cute wife that lets you have video game Wednesdays and doesn't complain about helping out or even doing the finger foods, or a loveable and reliable husband that actually doesn't annoy you? And you actually like his friends, a support system since adolescence  and between the lines you know everybody loves you. That's all we need right? Right?

And this isn't a 'poor me' moment either, so don't go that far with the intent. I've been let down so many times in this life we live in. The only people that like casinos are either drunk or win every once in a while. Nobody else is interested.

And then we have Stabitha. Sigh. 

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The story hurts. The walk makes your feet bleed and you think of it like a busted lip you think nobody sees like the onslaught of acne over night. Everyone believes but I don't trust any of the vernacular she brings to the table. I told them NO. All of it has always been split in half from the beginning. And I don't do this for random follows or to provide subjective clues. Look around. My sound could never be as acute as yours. I abhor the dirty floors you think I walk across to express myself to you. Try to change me and ... you can't do it. Ever. The rental car I have now is completely above my means. I only enjoy the mental means to put all the roles in their place like the set up before a game of chess. You're all the same. But, I have been let down before, Sabitha. I'm sorry, but you don't impress me, little one, trying your best to be this enigma when I've seen a thousand of you before like undershirts before attending church growing up. Stained, ugly, but you try to hide it because its never on the surface.

You're not my friend. Working a match can be a match and I will carry everyone to their destination like Glad Force Flex trash bags to the colored containers the night before trash day because the HOA said so.

I hope your gimmick allows you to love yourself more than it used to after I've beaten you to a pulp in our quarrel, but if it doesn't, just understand I am the GUEST OF HONOR, and stepping into the ring with me is the best thing that ever happend to you. Go play Halloween with the other kiddos. You're about as intimidating a cubicle worker's mouse pad and stickered stapler. I'm not new and the last thing I'm going to respect is a woman crying for attention because she won a first blood match on the whims of not having an opponent that  knew how to look up a name in the Yellow Pages. I don't like you, but I do respect your attempt. Your attempt at trying to play mind games because you want to be viewed a certain way. I have more gifts than the Grinch That Stole Christmas. and there is nothing you can do about that. Face it. You're arguing with yourself. Stop talking in the mirror and look at your surroundings. 

I'm better than you.

I'll sum it up with this. You're an intersting blip, a water fall. Some people trek to see you and some don't. I'm the river, the most needed thing in Ultra Combat Sports, that feeds all congregations on it's way to the ocean that I am. Rivers are an intragul part of the world and water falls are just water falls. And serve no purpose in the existence of what I am. You're a good picture, but I'm the needed scipture an organization would put their chips on.

I bet you didn't think I could word it like that right? 

I'm allergic to what you think is perfect, Stabitha. And just know the world doesn't revolve around you or any of the company you keep. It's a steep drop you're about to fall from with your face paint and your remedial experiences with  modern horror. Save all that for the other combinations for friends you stand with. I'm lightening in a glass or glasses. You're hold the psyches of 1998 trying to elude the fate of evolution. 

The lens you run around with is very skeptical to me, but don't worry, I'll give you a rematch when I win this tournament. I'll give you the respect I hope you think you should get. I am the MINISTER OF MASTERPIECES, THE GUEST OF HONOR and the DREAMCATCHER himself. 

I'll beat you on Monday. I'll beat you on Christmas. I'll beat you next Easter and it's not about the votes. It's about the man we are talking about being better than you. We don't do morbid face paint and adorable costumes over here. You are not my friend moving forward, so don't think when you put a quarter inside the game you are my focus. I'm the impecable sunrise that haunts and patiently helps you the day after the binge no matter how long it lasted. When you wake up, I will be the conundrum to show you what you need and where your place is. I am the bogeyman man.

You're the mannequin that they or you thought was supposed to be the face. I'm sorry, Stabitha. I really am, but I'll teach you like I did everyone esle that's been considered. FUCK OFF. I know I got the microphone right now and I know I'm longwinded. 

You're feverishly pending and I already got my package. Call customer service. I'm sorry, honey. I've already caught your dreams. And I don't even fish. Or play wide reciever. I hope you see this. I hope you get the message and don't purposely leave me on read.

Ha det.