I woke up this morning Gasping for air I had been dreaming of diving The deeper I went the less I wanted to go up I just kept swimming Knowing I could only hold my breath so long I was almost happy But I remembered that would leave me Without you
My writing does not hit As hard as it once did The bullets I shoot from my mouth They are not nearly as precise Is it possible I’m losing my Ability to Write
I feel like a fraud I spend my whole life phoning it in I take in the information But I put out nothing I wonder why I’ve been stuck in The same place for years now But I’ve done nothing to move
Beautifully rich plants grow against the house We are here often The cat he’s a beast A true predator He’s loyal And delicate He lives a life of respect The geckos run against the ceiling On the top edge of the wall Catching moths and spiders They fear me But I do them no harm I love the wild life It’s a life I wish to live One of simplicity And endurance For I am only a human I run on guilt and misery
I need to write something But lately I’ve fell as a squeezed lemon All that comes out is little droplets Not nearly enough to make a sweet lemonade To shove down the public’s throat filled with bits of me