Sleepy.....       I'm.... a
tired, type. The hype of life
reminder....     right?

Fired, if i don't wake....      on time.
But I.....   I don't deal...
                                                   with stress.....      and strife.

A broker in knives, for slicing ice.
It melts much faster
in little bites.

Lead me on this frightening
path of lightening
in a world that's getting faster
on a journey to disaster
without permission of the master
the plan will fracture.

We ourselves invite to rapture
and the laughter of the one thereafter
as we still ignore the lesson
on our mission of compression
turning days into seconds.

I relax, because I care
not because I care not.
The day is long and life is patient
Be the ball and chain of nations.

The slender shades that eyes evade.
Pushing, rolling, breaking, fixing.
Working hard, draining days.
Thrashing, mauling, tweaking, cringing.
Crying pleas, the beggars' seal,
a veteran voice of tired appeal.

The pheromones of filthy beasts,
riches of the silver peaks,
a cocktail made to quench the thirst of the class that comes in first.
And off with the shades in a wooden hearse.

They find the fact the sun will shine down into worlds
of salt and lime a relieving sign, of better times,
but sedated is this state of hope and with it their ambitions broke.
Light indeed is what they are, of coin and health and lands afar.
And in this state of steam and shadows,
they long for rules and signs and arrows.

Working 9-5 struggling to feel alive, yet the pleasures of the weekend call to me.

My manager treats me well, lets me live in a glorified prison cell, 4 walls and a lack of sunshine to get me by.

Because the bottom line was worth my talents being bought on the bottom dollar so my boss can afford another Porsche.

I spend my days in a relentless haze looking at a life that I wish I had. Restless and lacking an emotional albi, my head holds me back because my heart knows I've tried to find the map to success one too many times.

What I do know to be true is that all my thoughts lead me back to you and what we'd do if we lost it all tomorrow.

Because everything we own is borrowed yet our time is owed to pay our debts and drown our sorrows in the latest fashion and technology credit can buy.

All of this a countless scheme living in a capitalistic regime where the boss makes a dollar and I wish I had a dime.

When does this cycle end, what I would give to have my livelihood extend, instead of running a rat race against my will.

Not to be instruspective here, but at this rate you're already dead my dear and the light leaving my eyes is not to far behind.

So, I take my 2 weeks vacation a year and pride myself on facing my fears because if my routine were to ever break I'm not sure what else I'd find.

Let's raise our glasses and make a toast, to the cubicles we live in the most. May a workaholic's love never find me.

If gas prices taught us anything,
There's money in selling efficiency.
No one has a back to break these days,
Nor the time to do it.
I could labor in the fields,
Or click a button.
I still get the apple,
But is it truly the fruit of my work?

I was working,
Right on down at the sandwich shop.
When a dainty little lady landed at my counter,
With a twirl, a smile, and a sparkle too,
She parted her lips to let a beautiful sound through.
'Hey-ya sandwich man,
You're lookin' rather tasty,
And I'm one hungry girl.
Boy your sweet smile is gonna make me stay for awhile,
Mind if I get a taste babe?
Just a little sample of your loving,
Because a boy like you makes a girl go crazy!
Believe me baby, I didn't come for a sandwich fool,
I came to see if a could get a soda pop,
With a small side of you.'
Woo-ooo she made me drool!
A slender thing with bouncy curls,
You better believe she sent me for a whirl,
With her flicking lashes and skirt twirl!
I never thought I'd thank my old boss,
For taking me up to his old shop.
But with a skip and a hop,
I thanked cranky ol' pops.
Then I got going,
Cause she needed a strong hand,
To make sure hers don't drop.

Who invited the instigators?
I didn't,
Did you?
They don't work,
They don't write,
Unless it's a comment made out of spite.
Social medias were built to throw around blame,
If you like spreading rumors, may I suggest Facebook?
Wherever you do it,
Don't do it here,
You're one poem,
Can't be a line attacking people you've never met.
I'm sick of all the strays,
If you come here, come for art,
Come to write.

I just found out,
Hp lost a good one today.
Their account is a 404,
Page not found.
It was all good work,
Until it was all gone.

I can make a career out of this,
Right?
I can do this for a living,
So many people do.
I'm paranoid,
But I think it's reasonable.
I've done this for so long,
Who will I even be,
Without it?

my writing is a blunt hammer,
a white void pounding
at the keys,
breaking off little plastic
bits of life.

this room’s full of them now,
the debris of dead thoughts,
ancient relics:
dinosaur guts,
fern dust,
fossilized failures.

the sun’s clawing its way
up again,
after all this time.
what a *******.

can you wait
for morning to sink
its teeth into you?

can we
stand five feet apart
and still meet
each other’s eyes
without flinching?

can I write something
that outlives me?
sure,
that’s the easy part.

but writing something
that lives
without me?
now that’s the trick,
isn’t it?

silk canisters and
ribbons marching like fools,
a casket dressed
in bright roses—
pretty little things
for the spigot,
the *****,
the inevitable hole.

wait another year.
or ten.
or twenty.
hell,
spend your whole life
waiting.

go ahead.
see where that gets you.

it doesn’t come.
it never does.
not like that.
never.

stop waiting
for:
someone,
something,
some sign,
some break,
some moment
to crack open
like an egg.

stop praying for it.
stop hoping.
stop wishing.
stop.

the work,
that’s all there is.

live for it.
breathe for it.
burn for it.
die for it.

if you have to believe
in something,
believe in that.

I don’t know
what that thing is for you,
but you do.
and if you don’t,
then maybe it’s time
to stop,

and ask—
what the hell’s stopping you?