The American Dream


Somebody please tell me where I can find the American Dream.
Give me directions and I will be on my way.
I won't harm it, I will simply walk up and grab it by the sleeve and say
Can I please have just a moment of your time?
I just have to ask, have to know, have to hear,
Why? Did? You? Abandon? Us?

I SUPPOSE IT COULD BE GENERATIONAL.
Some cruel curse bestowed on us by an evil force thousand of years ago
But without fail, my father, and his father, and his father alike
Look the same.
Talk the same.
Live the same.
Choosing always between one thing or another
Backs in pain until the day they are laid to rest in our Mother Earth.
She is far more forgiving than most, and though many of us have not paid our debts, she will still someday embrace each of us like her own, with cool arms outstretched and far too many whispered questions. (where did we go wrong) When you listen, she speaks.

I was 13 years old when I first felt sweet oblivion. Falling back into peace, a comfort given and taken as the hands of your poison of choice caress you, so gentle you cannot feel those cold hands gently squeezing the sides of your throat until you begin to choke. This is not our Mother Earth. The whispers are not kind nor forgiving. They demand, and they take, and you look to the pitch black of the night sky just south of the corner of 5th street and you cry out to God. He, nor Mother Earth, will answer.

I wanted to feel something. I wanted the rush of euphoria to grab hold at the space just behind my eyes and drag me across the heavens with no second thought. Dive in. There was no chance I would end up in the deep end, for I was watchful and careful and everything in between. I set poison under my tongue and read the experience like the first few syllables of a love letter. My mouth is empty now, and I still cry out, begging for just one more taste, as the doctors tell me that I am sick. I am weak. The chase goes on. I am in the deep end, and the world stands on watch, just out of reach, on the edge, holding the ladder in its bleeding hands, but even as I beg I know it will not be lowered. I cannot escape.

(where did we go wrong?)

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