Slam Poem Probably

So one night I was a combination of lustful and depressed and several revisions later this is what I'm left with. Yay!

An open letter from Fatalism to Lucas

Dear Sir,
The way you see it, you have to make a choice between two schools of thought,
two spools of thread that if followed will lead you to your future:

Either
you are completely satisfied with your life at this very moment
or
you are working toward change your hope will define as improvement.
Parallel lines meeting at infinity.

They meet here,
where dissatisfaction has brought you.
Your mind is doomed, paralyzed
as uncertainty urges you on while holding you back.
Before you boast of the prowess of your intellect and how it has saved you from similar times of despair,
may I remind you of your fears, the soot in the corners of your mind that will stay there forever, despite your years of studying existentialist texts and learning confidence-boosting mantras.
suffering is inevitable
suffering is inevitable
Yet how shocked you are to find yourself here again.

The triumph of your will has only offered you a sense of self-defeat,
and because of this
the same nervous logic that stirs unease into your breath and forces your heart to pump faster every time you are faced with an impossible dilemma
offers this simple question:
if you cannot be happy now, why would you ever be content with a future based primarily on the consequences of your actions?
Hasn’t what you’ve done brought you here to the landscape of the discontented?

Despite this, you refuse to abandon the hope that your actions have meaning.
I suggest that these muscular twitches you call actions are but tiny puffs of wind that stir the world’s dust before quickly being buried in the movement of time.
You yourself have experienced this: you have fought for everything that you know, and yet have still been overwhelmed.
The shock of battle intertwined in the anxiety of dilemma.
Exactly what is it that you are fighting for?
What are you forgetting to do when you refuse to act in your own self-interest?
Or is that refusal in itself an action done in your own defense.
How you trace the outline of these Mobius strips of logic.
It reminds me of the way nuns fondle their rosaries while begging God for guidance.
I’m amazed you’ve stayed engaged in your apparent struggles for so long,
but then again, admitting that you are as happy as you’ll ever be would be kinda disappointing, wouldn’t it?

Listen,
no conclusion you draw will bring the necessary choreography to enact the purpose of the rest of your life.
And acknowledging the guilt you feel for your passivity in this matter
only adds shame to injury.

Therefore, let me give you this advice:
look at how your body hints that it was built for something.
It is filled with subtle yet defined evidence of purpose:
bones, muscles, organs
bear no accidental shapes.
Without command
the eye looks
the lungs fill
the heart beats.

So shall you, without command, move again
the grace of uncertainty
will lift up your chin.
eyes that once looked upward
will look forward,
powered by a heart that will continue to beat out the eternal question:
for what? for what?
May I remind you that some questions are rhetorical
and your silence on this matter shall not ensure your defeat.