[UnbornBuddha]

"Here I was born, and there I died. It was only a moment for you; you took no notice."

Finale
Here I am, on the floor as all my orifice bleed,
The kind of dark blood that contains horrific grief.
Hemorrhaging, I get the flashbacks oracles see;
Past and present take on the forms of my dreams,
Bizarre images that have their purposeful means.
I get warped into a scene, where I’m a corpse in a tree
Hanging motionless, trying to unconsciously sort out things.
In the end, all I learned was that something lurked within
That could potentially change my search for that person I seek.
In another scene, I’m tortured routinely, in order to believe—
That I can forgive myself for not finding my purposeful means.
The clowns gather around, like an alchemical circle of creeps,
Absurd in their physique, but learned in the mystique.
Maybe, if I had the eyes to see the worth of old antiques
I’ll be able to discern better the critique, & relish my uniqueness.
In my showbiz, all matters of hell and heaven are facetious.

Beginning
Barely out the womb, I was classified hardly a being
My caudal appendage was seen as a mark of the beast
Growing up, nuns rejected me of an orphanage seat.
I had no home to harbor & sleep, my heart yearned for peace
Eventually, the scorn for me grew so large I took leave.
Found myself in the wild, where I met this order of thieves
Who travel city to city, swindling dollars off workers in heaps.
Their leader, Gust, offered me a feast,
—Only to then cage me, with all the other carnival freaks
Our job was to impress others with our farcical deeds!
….Have you ever felt like you couldn’t speak?
Because you have worms gnawing at your throat
Clotting up your nodes; parched cottonmouth souls
Who know it is all one big joke!!!
But it’s hard to see the hoax, while suffering the cold.

MIDDLE
In my stay here,
I found out I had a knack for acrobatics, automatically
My motor neurons and muscle memory fired anabolically.
—But, alas at the height of my fame
I developed vertigo, a spinning divide of my brain.
Even Shakespeare couldn’t recite to you my pain,
Temporal disorientation is a sign that correlates.
Just when I had found my cardinal direction
I fade into obscurity, like Darwin’s true intention.
But, I won’t let Vertigo keep me from my vertical leaps
Even if the Milky way was spinning, I’ll hurl off this beam
But, in my proprioceptor despair, I couldn’t sense anything there
All spatial dimensions were impaired, and death is certain if you’re off by a hair!
So, I fell and miss… Those close enough could hear my cervical snap
Talk about a terminal dance, huh? Go ahead, at my expense, have a personal laugh.