World around me:*
Produce, slave. Move!
Eat.
Sleep.
Produce.
Prognosis – fatal.
Me:
Wow, coffee heals all wounds.
What a beautiful day ahead.
What impressive words I'll have said.
What will they think of me when I'm dead?
World around me:
Remember,
You are replaceable.
You are a cog.
The machine is God.
Me:
What about a drive,
A good read,
A pipe on the porch and a walk?
I rely on an empty countenance,
A guise to hide the storm behind my eyes.
The world needs a smile and a hammer.
I thrive on words.
I survive on heart.