I liked to indulge in frivolous things
Like waiting in lines outside shows & hiding in the back of Barnes and Noble until they closed
And engaging in petty arson
And now I forget how the sculptures that lined the walls of my literature class looked
Because all I see these days are the back of my eyelids after I know I should be awake
I'm beginning to lose sight of what's important because my eyes are being held open by constant irrelevant pressure
Why do people try to tell me I'll be made happy by cliche things I don't want
And the time period my body has been thrown into is one of staredowns and angst and waiting
When I'd rather just wait for you outside work than to wait for a 401k retirement plan
Because careers are a death trap that Kevin Spacey displays
And why does life seem like we only plan for the day of our death
Rather than to thrive in things like the curves of your body
I don't need to turn my music down or laugh any quieter
What's the point of waiting for Death in the gallows
When you can string him up by his ankles everyday by living