Everything he was,
everything he did-
was a constant effort
to be true to the image
he had of himself.

He reminds me of struggle
to be someone else
while believing that he is
struggling to be himself.

by what unit is good enough measured
is it the calluses and cuts on a hand
the crack of a sore back
or by the number of times
skin meets pavement

is it an neglected apartment
the dust collecting on beloved projects
or number of friends
no longer waiting for a reply

tell me
to whom do you bottle your blood for
till when do you wash the sweat off
for what do you owe this pain
so where is the limit

              will I/they ever be satisfied
  
                         can i take a break yet
                or is this not good enough

Everybody wants a bite of love
yet, not everybody wants to chew.

Passions, pleasure now feel like a chore,
making my life a bore
and my mind sore.
Tick, tock
Time is valuable
panic rises,
for there is a mental rigid routine to abide by.
But now my soul wears a dress,
which is stress.
Watching shows, self care and reading books
which once upon a time used to be relaxation,
have now become a cross off a to do list.
Losing interest in my mundane life,
I find my breath meaningless,
waking up pointless and have  
life just drag my corpse with time.
There are mountains;
burdening my mind and scraping my heart.
A soul of a robot is what I have,
except that I have a voice that complains
and ears that hear commands,
creating havoc on my mood and mind.
All what I loved, became
‘have to’ and ‘should do’,
a daunting tasks
requiring more effort than it did before.
Life seem drudgery and draining to wake up to.

But It was all about approach and perception.
Digging deeper with why,
I found reasons and meaning behind my life.
It was about relishing in the process,
rather than completing them.
In the errands for others; I searched for joy of my own.
Unleashing creativity in daily mundane activities,
it did not seem robotic no more.
Rediscovering happiness and enthusiasm,
making it interesting by sharing and snapping,
I set lose from the chains of my routine by reinvigorating spontaneity.
For what felt like burden, wasn’t meant to be felt like a burden.

"I will not live to refine
mediocrity"

Let's talk time.
My time, it cannot be bought.
My time cannot be leveraged.
You cannot assert yourself,
Imposing your time, money or effort,
With the expectation I owe you a thing.

I'll respect your time,
But you best respect mine.

Though that's never been the case,
Power has been your tool, to buy the time,
Of those you could not even give a second.

So all these years later, when I've mastered time.
When I've learned to control, bide and enjoy, time.
You cannot, waste time, my precious time,
Nor can you come back and expect my time.

objectivity
its so clear
all lined up and logical
do this then that then that over there
of course, of course
just do it
simple as that

theoretically
its so easy
all planned out to the t
do this then that then that over here
of course, of course
just do it
of course, of course
have you done it?
of course not