flipping bills

i wrote this poem a few days before i left for boston in college perk:


flipping bills
paying the runner of the mill
to play my fill of expression for the evening
a penny for a chord
then a nickle for one more
just to afford a way through the madness

sometimes we mistake dis-ease for sadness
uncomfortable are we?
with gladness

i'm thankful to feel at all
to question what calls me
and where i beckon
.. i don't really reckon i'll get there without paying a buck
but a certain side of me
drives me
to test my luck

driving up hill, north to where i free myself from this brick built house

sometimes the mouse
gets snapped by the trap
and sometimes
it just doesn't fall for it

sometimes life calls for running on no gas
and passing
the limits
that kill

we need to find our fill
flipping bills
driving up hill
fighting, even still before we've fallen

the music stops
and you could hear a pin drop
or god forbid a heart beat

they say,
"i can write whatever i please
just please don't test me too much"

FUCK.
we must test ourselves
or we're selling ourselves short

every "could" or "would" or "should"
is another passive voice

sorry, but i must pass on the choice
to avoid
life
with every ugly angle and degree
that it entails for me