Victoraphobia (or the fear of success)

It’s finally the truth

The Rubicon’s been waded

The die’s left my palm

The horse has nosed cross the line

And the hour was upon us

Not but a minute ago

When corks of champagne

Shot out like Evil Knievel

The roar of the masses

Reaches my ear percussion

In the encore of an echo

And I am forced awake

Pulled out from the cover of hope’s dark night

Thrust into the blinding dawn of a plane’s open door

I am here now in this purgatory of Wonka-like proportions

Where poor boys get the chocolate and the flying elevator

All the coffee stained smiles belie

The rising peaks of their aspirations

Their greedy grasping of my jacket fringes

Clamoring against my iron covered bones

And what does a handshake signify?

Why so much concern for a pat on  my back?

Too many tombs were dug by unspoken treaties

And pits fallen into when eyes lifted from the path

And after so many moments spent

So many long tear-filled dreamless eves

Too many lonely days falling into weeks

Too many comfortless missing of marks

How can I shift with an automatic engine,

How can I exchange sword for laurels,

How can I lay down my battered shield,

How do I inhale into asbestos filled lungs?

Did I ever really want this victory

Or was I pushed onto the track

By those who couldn’t run a mile

They who lost their stamina for the fight?

What guarantees my stay in the land of fairies,

Is there anyone who can reserve a lifetime table

And if so, wouldn’t I tire of the Italian cuisine?

Did I ever really want to get off that plane,

Was I  just in the sky for a pleasure ride?

Couldn’t I purchase a return ticket from my seat,

Is there any need to cross that platform  at all, or

Is the finish line just a starting point?


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