This is it (key bash)

(I'm at that point again,
shouting at the system...
Why do you ask me twice
if I'm done with the work
I've already forgotten
so that I can forget
you only asked me once
and now it's gone.
You should have more faith
in the instantaneous writer.
But, balls to you
and balls to this.)

A glass of red wine,
this time drunk,
through sober buds
as it all begins again...

Polish the glass,
drain the radiator dry,
toss the salad,
blow the all important whistle
at half time,
catch your fourty winks,
but don't forget
to flush the bowl.

Here we are again,
thinking the same old thing,
the 'here he goes again.'
Well, I do go
and I will.

Religion prances on the grass
like insecticide,
whilst we get caught out
looking up and to the left.

Don't make too much of it,
but make sure it is enough.
This is it,
it is real.

The moments of certainty
that dance away
like the crow who braves himself
too damn close to the windshield.

This is it.

It's good to think you've got it down,
but it's better to watch it leave.

Then,
and only then,
will you stop
to look at the blank space
in front of you
that means more than
any crowded room
or any well painted picture.

This is it.

The possibilities are endless
and most out of reach.
Just keep on going.
Don't worry about staring at the blade,
laughing too hard,
loving too much
or losing your mind.
You will eventually taste it all.

Dinner is already being served
and this is it.