Sunday, June 10, 2018

Dear Bill Collector,

Some say depression is contagious, it can be caught at any time.
You have to encourage yourself...
 Then the phone rings.
Wait, I see that look in my mother's eyes again, I seen it over and over again as a child, she doesn't know how she's going to pay-up.
I'm a child, wandering in the jungle in search for a way to provide.
I once wondered why a man who has achieved so much takes his own life.
In my thoughts, the phone rings.
Mom, wait...I'm seeing things.
She's not here, I look around and I'm all grown up.
I'm on my own.
I have to pay-up.
I somehow forgot that everything comes at a price.
I don't know how I got behind, then the phone rings.
My worth went somewhere, I think I have it, let me check my account again.
Wait, it's in the negative, I have some copper under my bed.
Why do you keep calling me on a recorded line?
Why does everything come at a price?
How are you going to sue me? I have nothing left!
Mom, Dad, how did you make it in this jungle?
I'm alone again, it's a weekday and still I can't pay-up.
The phone dies, the electric is off.
The phone is off.
Everything is off.
I better read this book and buy some time, learn something new.
Increase my self-worth.
After paying ten percent, I still don't have a clue.
Wait, I'm smiling, then I get a letter, I've been summoned.
I know some men who got caught up in the wrong game and couldn't pay-up, now they're gone.
The business man put them on their knees and took their life because they couldn't pay-up.
He then put their body in his trunk: The End
I'm sure you get it.
Child, enjoy this meal. Do you hear me? I said lick your fingers, it feels like this may be our last supper, doesn't it?
This hunger will turn you into a saint.
This hunger will make you appreciate your next meal.
This hunger will make you appreciate everything.
The collectors are everywhere.
They blend in with the normal.
You will think that everything is fine and then they strike.
Straighten you up, give you a dose of reality.
I can't afford my medicine.
I find myself in the middle of the floor.
Everything becomes too much.
Turn off the TV, I may have to entertain myself; with no money, I can't pay the bill collectors.
I see things piling up, my blood begins to flow slow.
My heart dreams of a place with no worries and no bills.
My walls are made of papier-mâché because they're caving in.
The clock ticks on the wall, I come to grips, realizing that I have nothing left but my soul and spirit.
The battery in the clock is dead.
I have no income, I then end up out on the street.
In my hunger, there is no more ringing, I see the sun rise while I lay behind a dumpster.
I develop a relationship with it's rays of light.
The sun keeps me warm for free.
That which is nasty is good.
At the soup kitchen I notice that all of the food is expired.
They're feeding me what I used to throw out.
Behind the dumpster I sit and I dream.
I'm fading into nothing.
As I'm fading an old friend notices me, I let her know that I'm a toxic asset.
I scream for her to save herself, she refuses.
She takes me in.
She washes my face, she feeds me.
She's happy to see me, but hurt, because of what I've become.
She cares.
Tears fill her eyes.
She is determined to rebuild me.
I've somehow found true love and a reason to live.
I'm motivated to pay up.
I'm back on track.
Her daughter and son smile at me in the morning.
They call me dad.
The sun still rises every morning just like it did when I was down and out.
I've struck gold.
The phone rings, I answer to pay up, but it's not them it's her.
I've found the cure for depression.
They say a human can feel true love.
They say a human can feel when someone really cares.
The feeling has somehow saved me.
It's somehow recharged my spirit.
I call the bill collector and make arrangements.
For the time being and as long as this love last, I'll be alright.
I've been blessed with a family who found me behind a dumpster.
The payment is on it's way.
I promise. 

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