2, 12, 4, 5
spending your life perched on your plush throne
as the forest creeps upon your every move, every thought, every blink of an eye
never even turning to look back, only straight ahead, 60 miles an hour
but is that even a choice?
whom for every risk is taken
12, 4, 5, now you're quite a distance ahead
living your life knowing exactly what's in front of you
that speckled path contains no surprises, only expectation
you know what you live to do
but do you even know what you are living for?
12 hours with a hand on the wheel
a toe on the gas
a spine slowly curling upon itself,
that which afterwards, you stay up a little
do some work
go to bed
i never get a good night's sleep anymore,
im too busy waiting for my funeral reception
flaking first at your delicate edges, then straight to your core
trapped between point a and point b
puppeteered by the ******* who tell you what to do and put it on a sign
moving solely to move others to their futures
their 60,000 dollar futures
4 years until i finally get to retire
though, does retire even mean escape?
5 slips of paper at the end
5 faces, 10 pairs of eyes to bless you
i have never seen a happier man in my life.