Game Of The Self

Games as my memes and every day frames
Frames as my relations to sail on the ship of relation-ships
Every relationship as a transactional play of my betray
I have become a stray, a prey of the very games I play
Living in the Play, playing the same game for the same shame, for the same meme of that same shame with just a different fame
For I know of no other way to delay

Unable to create, disabled to show my hurts
I live in the hurts, to hurt more so I may justify my hurts
Hurt as my concert, I create a life full of dirt
only to blame the other of my fret and in debt of the very threat within my own regret

With regrets I play and in upset I pray
not knowing that the more I play, the more I obey
the more I obey, the more I sway
the more I sway, the more I prey
prey and be preyed on and never that is a pray

Enslaved to my old habits, looking through the prism of this habituated Babbitt
I fill my cup to its brim
Standing on this rim, I long for new habits forgetting that I still am seeking for the comfort of this Babbitt’s habit
Unable to understand the nature of my filled cup, I long for a new label to make my table with the same old fable

Unable to empty my cup, I live in comparison, a division
A division with such precision, its only vision and revision is the decision of division
One division for another, one relationship for another
each division and each relationship as a tether to swing, to cling, to bring and up-bring and ring the swinging from one to the other to the tether to another to the nether

Afraid of emptying the cup, I hold on to the very last drop, the very last crop, even when it is rotten and begotten by the rotten
Fooling myself with the concepts and living in the imaginary hallucinatory ideologies of the view of my glass being half empty or half full
Debating, baiting, rebating, rating and placating in this habituated imaginations of mine can only reiterate my past and never really examine what is

I wonder of the day, a day that I am alive
For each play is a reiteration of the life that was and never of the life that is alive, LIVE
To be Alive maybe is to die to that was alive, so the memory of alive is no longer in that which I live and it is in the Life that is Live
For in the live is the life that thrives, revives and arrives in the live jive

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