by Nathaniel Anacta
When I have a belief, but I’m not certain, I would choose to suffer,
Than move somewhere unsure,
Even familiarity, a battered wife would choose over risk.
Alpha over beta, that’s the term, the willingness to accept consequence for greater reward,
Hell the keynote: to prefer it over something. It’s called making a decision in full view of the sun.
The countless many walk beetle suited like to their funny ironic lives,
suits, ties, traditions
They still must face anxiety and uncertainty and all the horrors of life but uncertainty they follow together nevertheless, to try to justify to themselves something.
For some reason they just don’t want to accept that maybe a better option is waiting out there.
And that’s how men like me get you. We’re what you call stand up men,
Whereas the rest of you choose to kneel forever, the smart kneel for now to learn until they should stand, and the worst or perhaps best of us just stand hands on our dicks
Some good, many bad. But who’s to say what good and bad is, that’s for posterity to judge and us to live.
But hello, you twats, I’m the Faberge in a mountain of empty shells.
I’ll live until 60 and I would have built something that I agree with.
Self-fulfilling you see?
Not necessarily die because I’m a risk-taking fuck, but because I see that a risk is a risk and a tool.
You on the other hand are tempest tossed at best and old reliable. Like my right hand after Tinder.
Funny, we seem to forget that life is uncertainty but prefer to impose a well-oiled corset of laws into it. Maybe tomorrow if nothing happens to us, but for now, we’ve few to know.
