The playbook was written eons ago,
actions determined before my birth,
evolving over time with situations
into this new age capsule that holds
no promises of a joint tomorrow,
nor any hope for fairy dust and tales
to re-emerge as your new reality.
Instead, this new capsule is padded
with cynicism and wires of openness,
and one should swallow this capsule
with caution and buckets of pragmatism
or it will oil up your throat, choke you
and make you wish your heart had died.
Keeping your head in the game
means keeping your sanity unlocked,
this playbook does not forgive easily,
nor does it forget any lapse in judgement,
as it has no space or literature
to allow for tenderness and gentleness.
Wonderland is no longer an option, Alice,
so pack up your teacups and make haste,
readjust your head to fit the game,
reconfigure your notions of that
rainbow of joint tomorrows dusted by
those old, odd, comforting fairy tales…
this is the stuff with which dreams are killed
this playbook of life, bereft of time and nostalgia,
takes absolutely no prisoners.