whatever

Most all of my actions are ill-advised; I feel 100% confident
that none of them have ever been televised;

What is it that stops a person driving a vehicle from drawing outside
of the lines when one small plunge too far to the left or the right
could make a person famous overnight;

Yet most everybody keeps driving their metal bubbles
towards anonymity instead of infamy;

And although most mornings upon waking
I immediately begin thinking: "Oh my, I
feel as though I might die; definitely
feeling more dead than alive-"

I keep living. I keep dressing, undressing, sleeping,
awakening, dressing, undressing, eating/drinking/
smoking in between.

We all hang from somebody's, or rather something's, invisible
string; our sharp actions seem to be the scissors
that eventually render the string incapable
of supporting our dumbly dangling bodies,

Then we begin plummeting into either heaven
or its antithesis, which appears only to exist
in our imaginations- more accurately:

Both these "localities" are destinations
not locations that seem to come from
within. Whatever.

My face is already a disguise- this fact makes masks
seem wholly unnecessary.

Most all of my actions are ill-advised; I feel 100% confident
that, as of today, none of them have ever been televised;
I believe I'd like to keep it that way.