What kind of work is waiting for me?

Do I recognize this place?

It is somewhat familiar,

I'm sure I've seen some,

Sort of arrangement,

Of this scenery before.

I'm sure I can,

Play the role,

The character,

For this place.

The security guard looks at you,

“I don't think so, kid,”

He says with a smile,

“Try again tomorrow.”

I think I've paid my dues,

But there's always something,

Lingering on the edge,

An incomplete job,

Or maybe…

Just maybe…

A new variation,

A different setting.

As the world moves along,

I can't help but wonder,

What is my place in it this time?

As the world moves along,

I can’t help but look ahead,

Did the frequency lower?

How far?

And as the world operates in the background,

Of this role-playing game,

I can’t help but check,

My level, what is it?

As the road ahead builds itself,

I try to recall,

My purpose,

On the west coast,

My place, on the map,

Which direction was ahead again?

And as people build homes,

As they settle down,

Somewhere comfortable,

Sometimes I ask myself,

Where will I find myself?

As I sneak down the back path,

Sometimes I falter,

Then wonder,

Will there,

Be something to catch me,

This time?

And sometimes I just pass through,

Because I’m tired of this bullshit.

And sometimes I’m reminded of the past,

And I say to myself,

Fuck that guy,

He can handle it.

And sometimes I recall,

That one time,

I bet on that horse.

You know the one.

The security guard looks at you,

“Dude, you’ve lingered for too long,

Move along.” He says.

Welp.

On to the next thing.