I lead my hours in procrastination,
in making plans for the following year.
I keep hope for my emancipation,
in the abstraction of another fear.

I'm letting words run so fast and simple:
in my childhood's dance. I allow my mind
to roam the meadow, to give my life to
happenstance. And if my words deliver

Lake Arenal,the origin of my dream;
please forgive me for my swift departure,
for gathering speed over the jet stream.

I guess I'm half-drunk but still we falter:
this life must have something we can alter.
I'm bolting doors to keep strangers at bay,
instead, I have just locked myself inside;
forsaking comfort in the light of day.