I hear the faucet dripping and the mechanics of the blue collar work trucks
Intervals of silence and speeding spinning tires and old brake pads
***** and worn slip resistant boots
Soot and divided revisions
Under eye circles unaware of the cycle
Botched circadian rhythms
Allegorical authority in my observations of worn hands and steel temperaments
Toast it with a beer can at 8am and proclaim I am the one who is teetering towards them
But we are them
The grown ups in the grind
We ******* grew up my friend and time applies to you and me
Are you who you thought you would be?
You are the complacent adult
The enemy of dreams