Chowed Down

For my last meal. I was served up humble pie. I’d finally decided where and when I would like to die. It’s foolish to leave it up to chance. Just think of the damage old age does to ones reputation. Gross there goes old poopy pants.

I’ve taken note. And found nothing to prove otherwise. There exists no gods other than the ones we humans have made up ourselves.

I always maintained i had free will. As long as I had the ability to become a martyr. Whenever I wished. (in my own eyes) The ultimate act of defiance in the face of tyranny. It was so clear to me. Like the shit eating grin i was captured wearing. When I was filmed trying to get myself killed to prove a point.

An inside joke I’d never spoke of for it was no laughing matter. Like the bits and pieces of bloody brain that rained down and stained the onlookers. That just moments before mocked my sincerity and strength of will.

I had foolishly thought I’d get the last laugh. Somehow forgetting Murphy’s law always persists. To ruin the best laid plans. And make a fool out of every kind of woman or man.

I‘ve half the face I use to have. And not quite enough brain damage to keep my mind from kicking me in the nuts every two seconds. For ending up a quadriplegic in a wheel chair. With a bad taste in my mouth. Instead of a well fed idea blowing freely thru the air. Out of everyone’s hair.