I've been coming home,
feeling kinda lazy

Just art, just music
nothing really amazing

What I think is average
others think is blazing

I don't want to be stuck
in a fuse about what was written

I don't want to be stuck
making ******* discussion

I don't want to be the one to judge what is or what isn't

Stuck in this fiction
of making a living

Ethan hunt on the hunt
This passion is my mission

I'm so passive aggressive
I say **** my contestants
All the hate, I digest it
Check my inner intestines
They are coated with steel

What is the pursuit of happiness?
Is happiness even real?

False media & markets
items bought for apartments
***** clothes on my carpet
feeling down an exhausted
Emotions are quite toxic
All is a thought process

Rolling over in bed
I feel the dark on my eyes
Then feel the light on my head
Get up and do it again
This cycle just never ends

Penny pinching, and quarter quivering, dollar dribbling....
this Average life is for a simpleton

I'm trying to get off the floor
Hard and painful to break through
This selfish, superficial glass ceiling called corporate.
I have no choice but to sit and sacrifice to it.
Why is it always about money?

No room for the artist, the poet
No time for the writer, nor the dreamer.
I know I need to be at this nine-to-five
If I ever want to afford my paper and pencils.
Determined to write through this candlelight

But when you take the time to look at my face, or stare into my eyes
You will see a river flowing with such grace and force
It will flood your world and make you cry.
With such emotion in a moment of infinite love
That you will feel like you were ready to die.

I have thoughts I want to share with you, if you have the time.
I'm patient though, at least I'm trying.