Some Things Can’t Be Changed

Why is it?  Why?  Why? Why?  And truth escapes me every time until I accept.  Truth escapes me every time until I accept.  Until I accept me.  I ask myself why?  I ask myself why?  And truth escapes me every time until I accept.  Until I fully, truly, unconditionally accept me.  But why? why? why? why? why?  Can somebody please tell me why?

Why do I always go for the monsters who are quick to show their tits?  Why?  Don’t tell, Cuz I’m a man, cuz I know another man who don’t feel that way.  Why?  Why? Why? Why? Why?

This state of permanence I finally learn to accept.  This weakness in me I finally learn to embrace.  Of all things, and caged when I was young, I locked it up so tight with bars and doors and yellow lines.  So many yellow lines that should never be crossed.  And a kid I knew that we were seniors in high school and he said to me when he had seen, Don’t Watch Titanic.  No worries.  I didn’t watch movies, anyway.

But later he said to me, Daniel, pornography is like filth pouring into a tub, and the first thing you gotta do is turn it off.  Yea, great!  Check!  I’ll just go ahead and … and … well … maybe … at some point … ummm … well, you know, grab a pencil and start reproducing some of this amazing ART myself!  Yeeeeeeaaaaaa!!!

And so and so and so, and my grandmother died, and I am reminded of all those dinners at her place, and I look at the skull sign over her old garage and know that it ain’t her place no mo’ (She’s dead.)  And I wasn’t even around for her death.  I was far away.  Five years ago.  But I am reminded what a transient life this is.  Things seem so permanent, but they are not!  And I miss her chicken dinners with corn flake covering cooked in her gas oven.  Ahhhh…and permanence goes away.

I got enamored with the process of repentance, the chance to be BETTER every day.  Every day, an adjustment, every chance like grammar that now I just don’t care, but WHEN I did…I could adjust and readjust, learn new foreign language vocabulary skills with ease.  I could correct and correct and correct and remember the mistakes of my life so well…until today.  And I realized, although some things change, some things don’t.  Like me.  And my drive for pornography.  And being on my death bed, I just know my last moments I’m gonna activate my pornographic memory to drift off in peace, to RIP in peace.

And my grandmother wrote to me, before she died.  My grandmother wrote a letter to me while I was far, far away.  And I was saddened.  She expressed to me her regrets, that she hadn’t done things right.  She’d been too ornery, too caught up in “things”.  And I was saddened by the state of things.  And now she’s dead.  And like an exam that’s over.  Like a race that’s done and lost, some things just can’t be changed.  Judgment hits, and it’s done.

And I look at Bathsheba, and I look at Dina of Bible of Biblical times.  And I wonder myself if Dina didn’t have a hand in Simeon and Levi’s actions?  If Bathsheba wasn’t the reason for Uriah’s demise??  And Solomon’s demise?  Women can be wily creatures.  History may not do their wily wily justice.  History must be compared to reality, experience that one has lived.  And I have known some women.  Maybe not so different from Bathsheba and Dina.

It wasn’t until enough times, I said, “Go ahead.  Blow my head off!!!”  that finally after all these times, people in my life saw I would fight over anything.  They saw that firebrand I am, and the little are the big things to me!  And I found those yellow lines so many times.  All those yellow so yellow so yellow lines.  (Don’t cross the yellow line.)

And I get caught up with monsters that are so quick to show their tits.  I get caught up with monsters so quick to show their tits.  And I just can’t change.  And I just won’t change.  Some things never never never change.

And although in high school I had my regrets, I don’t have regrets, anymore.  I just know.  I just know.  I just know I’ll always be the same that I am.  I will carry my weakness til I’m dead.  And whether ‘cuz I’m man or a fool or an idiot, I don’t know.  And whether or not another has an answer to explain things I can’t know, my truth, my biggest truth, maybe my defining truth is my weakness.  My weakness that I will not, cannot ever ever ever ever change.  I guess, til death do us part, dear penchant for porno.  Justice will be done, and I’m sure I’ll get mine, too.  I’ve already seen my fair share of thickly painted and nearly engraven, yellow lines.


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