The story: my next life

My next life

THIS WAS SENT TO ME!

I want to live my next life backwards!

You start out dead

and get that out of the way

right off the bat.

Then, you wake up

in a nursing home

feeling better every day.

When you are kicked out

of the home

for being too healthy,

you spend several

years enjoying your retirement

and collecting benefit checks.

When you start work,

you get a gold watch

on your first day.

You work 40 years or so,

getting

younger every day

until pretty soon

you're too young to work.

So then, you go to high school:

play sports, date, drink, and party.

As you get even younger,

you become a kid again.

You go to elementary school,

play, and have no responsibilities.

In a few years,

you become a baby

and everyone runs themselves ragged

keeping you happy.

You spend your last 9 months

floating peacefully in luxury,

spa-like conditions: central heating,

room service on tap.

Until finally...

You finish off as an orgasm.

I rest my case.

MY RESPONSE To:

I want to live my life backward!

(The eventful seduction

without actual consequence,

go figure!)

Okay start out dead

and come to, luckily,

(as opposed to cremation),

in a dark small space

buried six feet under.

No one can hear nor care.

You use all the energy you can muster

to claw, scratch and dig you way

out of your claustrophobic situation

with limited air,

eating dirt along the way

making room for yourself

in passage!

You have arrived

with no one to believe you.

It is even worse

than identify theft!

Now you have to face those

who have inherited from your passage

and you have scared the hell

out of the rest

by your unbelievable presence.

You have no insurance

or way of claiming

your situation to be real.

It is only the freakishness

of your situation

that keeps you alive

by the curious and the estranged,

who associate with you

as some demonic messenger

for what comes out of your mouth

to explain yourself.

The nursing home wants details

on your financial situation

which you cannot any more provide.

How you get healthier

is from sympathetic souls

and dumpsters.

Your, quote ‘retirement’,

has to be a life of crime

since there is no way for you

to receive or cash any benefit checks

that have your phony name on them.

You work without a green card

and scrap a living out of cash income

on a daily basis

and of course,

pawned that stupid gold watch!

After 40 years of de-toxing

and believing that you are an immortal,

you become unable

to maintain your appearances.

'Youthful' feels like an emaciation

that you think no one

wants to tell you about,

like a kind of shrinkage/cancer,

that no one seems to have heard about

before now.

You invent personas

that go with your new looks

and prey upon others in ways

that you feel could get you arrested

if ever discovered.

You feel profoundly guilty

and deeply sick inside

but no one seems to realize how

depraved you have become.

Your life now is as a vampire

with diminishing skills.

You hide out in schools

getting shyer by the day

and more fearful of discovery

by the night.

You listlessly play yourself

into deeper boredom and dismay.

You stealthy substitute yourself

into families as a runaway child,

hoping that no one will ever really know

and that that child does not return!

Every phone call or knock at the door

threatens you to the very core

of your being.

Anxiety represents your decay.

Eventually after a masquerade

of family settings,

you realize your only option is hospitals,

large hospitals with big birth wards.

Any stray crib will do!

It will take a real miracle

for you to double up as

an unborn twin,

crowning and reluctant to come out.

There is no way you will get nine months

of safety and passage.

Embarrassment and a c-section

will force you out.

Your dream of closure

with orgasm as completion

will end with a gasp

and at best, your death is

by some crib syndrome in discovery.

And once again,

if your are lucky enough,

a no ash circumstance,

which you should humbly accept

since this time around,

you do not have the where with all

to stupidly dig yourself back into life.

My advice is that you should have gone

for the reincarnation in the first place,

committed your memories to a new brain

and played through in a normal fashion

and blessedly not said a word

to anyone about who, where, when or how,

and just smiled,

an old soul sort of smile

and proceeded!

Care to? . . .