There's not a ****** thing these hands can do
All there is
Is the next word
The next sentence
The next breath
The next exhale and the next
Inhale

We are bodies doomed to expel
But born
To create something within that
Short
Short
Time

Advancement is not a choice
But an
Obligation

Laziness harkens the ones
That do not
Understand this
Do not see this
Do not hear the ticking time of death

Do not hear the scratch of the scythe
Upon the smooth grey
Concrete

I am lazy too

I have drank my fill of hopelessness
Of sadness
Of temperatures and
Rage

The only thing it does
Is make you see familiar things
With a friendly kind of glaze

And for many days
I have laughed
I have cried
I have seen the hills on the
Other side

And understand now
They are much like the hills
Right

Here