oh, you who wander, don't be held back by a leash, cut yourself free, for we all are wanderers on the inside, begging to be let free, but we are the ones holding on, to safety, to comfort, let go, and live life, go, and wander in wonder.
User cannot be found. I suppose it's better that way. User cannot be found. So I wouldn't try to say "Hey" User cannot be found. A hole grows larger in my heart. User cannot be found. This is absolutely tearing me apart. User cannot be found. I'm sustained by the memories I keep. User cannot be found. And by the dreams that haunt me in my sleep. User cannot be found. I hope you're doing alright. User cannot be found. And that someone is appreciating you, holding you tight. HTTP 404 Not Found Error
If you all enjoyed this one, I urge you guys to check out my other poetry, as this one to myself is good but I'm much more proud of some of my others. Thank you all so much for your support and kind words. Glad you all could relate as I just wrote how I felt.
Come home, eat dinner go to sleep and have a weekend break.
Wasting time or time gone wasted? Pay the mortgage if I had one to pay. Pay the bills and send the kids all off to college.
That's what management says. "You millennials, always ruining something!"
You can't feed a family on avocado toast seasoned with debt.
Is it worth it? This life I have? These four-walls are a cell and I'm paid to be locked in a for-profit prison. Eight hours everyday five days out of the week.
Food and sleep are a punctuation. Sunlight through a dusty office window and stale break room coffee.
Blink and you're forty. Blink again and you realize that you can't get back the hours you spent on overtime. Glazed-eyes and a faded smile.
"If you don't like it, quit." I would if I could, but I like to have a roof over my head and hot food in the wintertime.
I'll retire when I die.
At least I know that my kids won't have to pay for my coffin.
The Bachelor has his suit; pressed and clean. Heart as heavy as the briefcase he carries. Dreaming of a life far removed from the train, from the city and the state he's debt-bound to.
The Nurse has his scrubs; spit-stained and wrinkled. Hands chapped and nimble. Caring for his child-patients who wouldn't live to see next Christmas...or next week.
The Student has her laptop; stickers and plastic. A stomach full of off-brand rice and noodles. Bound to the daily grind, text-book burdened and a future blanketed in grey walls and alcohol.
The Soldier has his uniform.
The Anarchist has her mask.
The Writer has her pen.
The Faithful have a God.
The Children have their dreams.
We each have our own armor, and it is never as comfortable as it looks.
To live a life in perspective I’m told you need to define a horizon line eye level to the viewer.
From my hill of years the view is fluid as in watery, but also as in unpredictable.
On the sea’s face a wall of fog moves in and out like histories remembered and forgotten.
Sometimes silver striates the sea with such a glitter of insight I am bedazzled and cannot look.
Sometimes fogbank and ocean merge with such blue-gray unity it seems the horizon rises so that I stand on the shore, dwarfed by a surf of knowledge that pounds at my ignorance.
Sometimes the sea becomes invisible, the white air a questioning emptiness, a finger-touch of damp against the cheek.
You tell the tale of your perfect life But you can't even undress your wife Or spend a weekend with your kids And visit your parents that you didn't miss.
You spread your arms to boast your wealth But you didn't even mind your health All those luxuries to feed your hungry ego Can't fill you up and every night you bellow.
You act like a king in your tiny office But you're just a parrot caged in your petty worries In a cramped up square of your own limits A boring building of dancing digits.
You spend the night with your circle of friends But they don't really appreciate your presence Wrapped inside your own bubble of vanity A suffocating sphere nobody wishes to be.
You claim to be a man of godly proportions But you're a sad case that needs divine intervention Your life is certainly a rare work of art But Leonardo da Vinci would tear you apart.