My former profession.

Bronx NY 86’ - sat in a corner, smoked and smoked
Eight rooms to be sanded, what a hope!
Yet I knew it was going to get done --
Just had to get done.

Even if it kills me
It will get done!
You see – gave my word
My word is all I have left.

My only treasure, my only quest
My only connection to what is real
All else has fled
Nothing left to barter a deal.

Felt like David
The giant to kill
Smoked, smoked some more ---
Now, where’s that ffffin’ sling?

Maybe I should imbibe to win
Or LSD, Leary’s thing
But no, I’m just left here, these rooms and I
These monsters breathing fire in my eye.

If I lose I may die, no one will know to cry
So, I looked them squarely in the eye
Said, ‘motherfxxxxxs' - you may win
But only so should I defend.

Sucked more nicotine of sin
Finally decided to load the sling
Took apart those earthly sins
Piece by piece a perfect win.

Stopped all time – its killing design
Took each piece and sanded it fine
In perfect moments – like my perfect soul
each as all, all as one.

Before I knew it I realized the whole
Didn’t feel the passage of time;
A day, a week - time lost its scold
Became aware of what I owned.