Tired of the itch, tired of the chase looking for what I don’t have while the world goes down in flames making excuses about how it’s ingrained when all it really takes is discipline mixed with a little bit of pace
Still, I hover in the wind, let me float back through the wild fields of dopamine where we all still take refuge inside of a haze, fearing truth, destroying self-worth to secure temporary comfort
My energy is frozen in time, it siphons into everyone I touch with each heavy hearted step, forging the very culture I am certain is the reason life is so hard because I’ve seen the depths of my own broken parts and still hear a voice in the back of my head ring out:
“If reality is set in stone by how you perceive, and if you see the endlessness of it all then why do you set store by any so-called beliefs? Isn’t that just habit underneath?”