Instinct Kicks In

When I was only very young, after I had run away once more, nine days on my own, my father told me to always trust my gut, my instinct. Call it 'Benny Intuition'.

As the days tore into months and the months ground into years, my instinct kept me hoping, living, smiling.

When the man driving the dusty XF Falcon didn't seem right, my instinct told me to run. I ran till I hit the sea, by then there was no need to swim.

When the girl dropped hints she wanted a big shiny diamond ring, i knew it was time once more to run, at eighteen I was in no position to marry, settle down for the long haul. I ran, one day she saw me, with someone new.

When the feeling in my bones told me all was not right, told me the knife was soon to be slicing, I sat still, feigning ignorance... till at the last second I ran.

Now these wheels keep on turning, stomach keeps on rumbling. I'm making my way to our favourite restaurant, to a table set for one.

Lighting ladies cigarettes outside neon lighted public spaces, instinct disappears, drowned by not enough scotch's, a feeble attempt at luxury portrayal, background betrayal.

Hail the new king, the old one abondoned us, lured by the safety of numbers. I'll no doubt still be late in the morning, but time is of the essence as the place is moments away from turning to shit, a far cry from the home we knew a year ago.

A rare disease, never seen before. Be wary of the andistollfootitis, it's a killer from the ground up. How do you run when your feet fell off in Africa? When instinct kicks in, you fly on a jet plane to safety.

One day, you get a call, from a pretty little lady, with electric eyes. Instinct tells you no...

Dinner's kinda crazy, feet tapping music drifting down the slick night time streets. Crowds passing by, don't look in her eyessssss...

Later, instinct having left for home, left you to the evils awaiting, your sitting in a smoky room. She reaches for your hand, the coolness sends shivers down your spine.

"Just relax", says she, as she ties the blind fold behind your head. Blackness overwhelmes, every hair stands on end, skin so smooth, breath so warm.

As the sharp steel razor begins it's journey across your throat, instinct kicks in....