Done, Yet…

Featured art by Nicolas Francoeur

Listen to Done, Yet… by Richard Charles Stevens

Listen to Return of the Robot Overlords by Turbo Knight

There’s a voice inside my head
And I think it wants me dead
Says that life is overrated
Pick the other one instead

Fills me up with dread when I feel empty, thus preventing me from lending sense to feelings underspent
Likes to see me reeling
Says it’s so much more revealing
Has a knack for interfering when it’s feeling domineering
Fear and loathing both propose to straighten up my bloody nose
While singing ring around the bloody roses
Hardly sets the scene for reinvention less it lead to misadventures unforeseen with consequences running theme
All the while, the voice inside my head is getting restless
Its suggestions growing ever more oppressively obscene

Tells me I’ll be dead before I’m seen
Then turns its back on me
Passively while planning next attack on me fanatically
Reality predicted there existed best laid plans for me
Cutting back empathically on rations of the actual me
The one who has a knack for taking actual facts and scattering
To sow the seeds of fiction, cultivate a dash of fantasy
Tame the tower, save the princess, happy ever after
Hero of the hour on a recess from disaster
To danger zones a chaperone for all those screaming “Faster! Faster!”
Bleeding through the antiseptic plaster

Sterilized for far too long
Neutered of free will
Voice inside my head space moving in for cruise and kill
Only truth self-evident
Is hesitant at best
For it may grab my cock but knows not how I opt to dress
Besides, I think it wants me dead
And I ain’t ready yet
Guess that makes it time to place those bets
Red or black and back to black
Spin the wheel
Attack the stack
Go all-in with pair of jacks
And play the river blind
Just for the crack

The actual fact is I’m fiction at best
Sometimes I dress to the right
Others left
The voice in my head can feel free to haphazardly hazard a guess at a valid address
Act massively dastardly
Make a scene
Badger me
Flatter
Deceive
Leave me bled like a battery

I think it wants me dead
And after years spent treading eggshells
Feel compelled to run the play and hedge my bets
Besides life’s underrated
When you take a lifelong dream and chase it straight to rainbow’s end to make pretend

Life is what we make it
When we take it to extremes
Set the scene for reinvention
Leaning into misadventures unforeseen with enterprise and keen as running theme
Wake up from that stunning dream and bleed it through reality
Let the fools and thieves proceed to deem it lean on sanity
Make your next move freely and exceedingly emphatically
Take it from the actual me
The voice of reason’s so last season
For the most part scheming treason
Dreaming up deficiencies
Not one of which is mildly pleasing
Sooner choose to live the sweetest dream I never ceased believing
Then with every power vested
Uncontested in my strength to flare up
Square up to the messenger of death
To final breath invested
Every vital thread connective
Make no idle threats or edits
Die my death
Then tell it
I ain’t done yet

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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