Free Will is an Illusion (a poem)

Free will must be an illusion
None of us are running the show
I spend my days in utter confusion
My instinctual drives I don’t know

What is destiny? What is fate?
Are these things superstitions?
Let’s gather and have the debate
I’ve always had my suspicions

I believe the subconscious deep within
Has more say than we like to believe
And many of our decisions hinge
On things we cannot perceive

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Unbreakable (a poem)

to say we were lost boys would be cliché

but clichés have ways

of cementing truths into language

like hard red suns that scorched West Philly & warm beers we guzzled ‘till we couldn’t walk straight & time went missing like a thief

who stole my innocence

& we packed into an old sedan on a road to nowhere &

perhaps, if time is not linear, this had to happen &

if free will is a myth, we had no choice in the matter,

merely swigging, smoking, fighting in adolescent wastelands

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