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?”