we are just manual

none of us
are
ever that lucky.

we're born, and
then we drink all the time,
as we're smoking cartons of cigarettes.

then we die.

then we're reborn christians,
or corporate yes men.
still,
trying just to collect a speck
of sense
as to why
we are here.

and always,
something goes wrong.

that girl leaves you.
your kid outshines you
in
the fuckup department.

it never ends.

then you die
again.

and if your lucky,
when you wake up,
for the 50th time,
you'll just be,

knowing damn well, that
besides yourself,
there was never any control
you possessed
to begin with.