Insomnia Prose

No one can set me apart and say whether go forward or stay behind.
That job belongs to someone else…

I remember when I found myself on my knees. I could feel my heart pounding through my chest as if it was going to explode. I could hear voices, but this is what happens with paranoia.
The blood from my nose must have leaked down onto my shirt.
I had not eaten and my stomach was hollow. If I were going to be taken, then it would have been at a time like this.
I could hear the sound of my life imploding. I could literally hear myself dying. Or so I thought.
My lower back hurt and the chemical reaction nearly killed me. I swore I would never do it again.
But of course, I did.

A cat has nine lives, or so they say. But I beat that number.
We were on the corner of Jerome and Atlantic. At first, there was an argument in front of the store, but the argument escalated. Then I heard the sound of a gunshot, followed the sound of a body flying backwards onto the car we were in.
This all happened so quickly, but yet, everything happened as if time was moving in slow motion
The driver was a girl I knew. Her scream was high-pitched, like something from a horror movie. Only, this was no movie and we weren’t in a theater. This was real.
A nickel plated revolver poked through her window and a .380 semi–automatic pointed in mine.
“This is it,” I thought. “This is how I’m gonna to die.”

Two of my friends were in the back seat. Both of them were quiet….but I knew what they were thinking. Everything slowed down to the tick of a tragic second.
A man with a bullet in his shoulder ran screaming through the streets of East New York, Brooklyn, and if ever there was a time I would be taken, it would have been then.

To say we are only born once is wrong. I was born several times after my birth. I was born the day I learned about music. I was born the day I learned about art.
I was born at the birth of my child and when she smiled at me for the first time.
I was born when The Old Man passed, and I was born when I lost everything and how to start over again.

Life has a way of teaching us lessons. But when we choose not to listen; life tends to increase its volume.
I’ve banged my head against enough walls, I say.
I’ve tugged on too many coats and pulled too many tails.

No one can set me aside and say whether I will go forward or stay behind.
That job belongs to someone else.
And since I have survived, then there must be a reason
……I need to remember that

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