I
See
The
Days
Roll
By

They
Smell
Of
Flowers
At
The
Death of
Summertime

Light
Through
My
Window -
A
Spinning
Fan

Seeking
Acceptance
I
Lose
The
Passion

Where
Did
All
The
Creation
Go?

A
New
Feeling:
Heavier
Formal
Expected
Boring

How
Can I
Break
Out
Of
This
Shell I've
Created
For
Myself?

Each road
Eventually
Forks.
Each path
Eventually
Ends.
Everyone
Has
Their
Way.

I see
Mine in glimpses:
At
The carwash.
At the grocery.
Holding
Perhaps a
Child
With an
Ironic
Grin on
My
Face.
Maybe
Growing
Up is
Easier
Than
I'd imagined.

I try
To envision
My life
In
Another way.
Maybe
In a
Place
Where the
Walls
Aren't so
White,
The Sun
Not so
Bright,
The night
Not so
Tight.

But,
These
Crude
Imaginings;
Are
They
Real?
What
Would
Really be
Different?

Excuses
For
My position
Now.

Would
Things be
Better?
I don't
Know.
There's
Just
This
Keyboard
In
Front of
Me and
This
Beer.

What
Would
Be
Different
If I
Weren't
Here?

A few
Misplaced
Feelings,
A few
Shoes
Untied,
A few
Ignorant
Tears.

What
Would
Be
Different
If I
Weren't
Here?

A
Few
Things,
But
Next to
That,

Nothing.