Wake up, eyes barely open and you already chugging that coffee.
Brain barely responding and you are already heading to the office
Making dollars for someone else on borrowed time
While you are living on a salary of dimes

Too tired to even enjoy your waking life
Functionin like a zombie but you wishing for the afterlife
Come back from work, eat, clean, sleep and restart
Waiting for the moment when the burden is gone. You're done for the day. You've done your part

You saving for the 401k a couple cents per pay. Hopin you'll reach retirement age.
Convince yourself that this is a fair wage
Most of it going towards your bills, really hoping you dont fall ill
Probably wont even touch your funds. Will go to whoever is in your will.

Used to chase dreams now you're running away from bad debt
Think this is what the rest of your life is gonna look like? You bet.  
Used to buy suits for your dream job now you're still in the sofa wearing your sweats
Get used to it. This is as good as it gets

They say your whole life is ahead of you. Have faith.
But between your 7am shift and bed when you gonna have time to chase your dreams. At 8?
Too late thats dinner time. Better make sure youre getting your proteins and greens
Thats all you still got control on. Dont let it go, by all means.

you ask me

Do I Feel Different Today?

today, day of days
when the child outside becomes the child within
when those seven billion billion billion atoms have more or less successfully completed nearly seventeen million kilometres of earth

spinning

in space around a ball of blazing plasma and all I want is a break from it all for just one second
breathe in
one
two
three
make a wish
blow out the candles
see each little light blink into oblivion until the only one left is the sun and

Do I Feel Different?

I am still
spinning.

The shadowy wall potently pays
Tribute to an open door.
Because the door will know
How to shut itself,
While the wall is just
A bean stalk with the gift
Of making a bit
Of shadow.

The low witch would walk
Distinctly away
from the Concrete bean stalk
As the wall would burn
And the shadow would turn
The witch's own shadow
Into a mice meadow.

And the witch hates mice
When throwing the dice
On the shadowy floor
Of the room with no door,
With no lock
To the dock
Where the concrete bean stalk
Has popped.

So the witch stays away
From the mice and the hay
Of her meadow-growing
Steps of annoying
Rhymes yours truly
Has made to undress
A reader's curiosity.