I've suddenly become very aware of the heaviness of my own body
The massive density of my bones
I never realized how much effort it was to lift my fingers
And to take care of the body I've been destined with forever
My eyes glue to a computer screen
Every unfinished immortality project sits on my desk
Collecting dust and forgotten ideas
I could've been a genius, my mother says
Oh but there is passion in me, I feel it writhing when I play Debussy
From Hendrix to B.B King yes, I can feel myself erupting
But every morning when the light bathes me in the new morning hope
It is only somedays I successfully get up
It is only a couple days when peace visits me,
The wind feels cleaner in my room and my mouth is no longer a grave for unsaid words
But I still hide in myself and wear the faces of others
Salinger taught me sarcasm with the help of Holden Caulfield
I practice late night insanity with Bukowski
Some sage old wisdom with western philosopher, Alan Watts
And even my optimism sprouted from Timothy Leary
Not even the moon is unfamiliar with my facets
My mind is littered with the thoughts of a dying breed
Someone who sought after something that is not of this world
Or it used to be