Everything is momentary to a monumental failure;
Monetizing the currency to a means of life
All in the means of life being momentaneous of one’s strife
And it honestly takes a lot of strife, to inspire my own self
To continue on to write — some days, it feels like it’s all coming
To be my very last moment, of forcing myself to inspire
Someone; anyone willing to connect through the wire
Building fences around the ideas we all seem to like:

We all like to be heard; as countless failures to listen
We all like to be anchors of advice; less the ones to gain wisdom
We all like the appeal of more life; dead cold to life’s experiences
We all like the good cards we’re dealt; but would prefer the odds
Of ourselves being the one’s quietly dealing it
We all like the idea of a superhero; something that supersedes faith
We all like the hope of us being connected by love; but what’s
A wicked heart, if it doesn’t sometimes love to hate

Everything we try to do, everything forced into my eyes
Shows me everything we want to do, is often just a waste.

I hate me
You hate me
I hate the fact
That's the only
Place where we
Can find honesty

©2024

One foot in front of the other
A played out endeavor
That has only ever
Led to the next far greater
Chapter on disaster
The fact of the matter
Is it's getting harder and harder
To change the visual status quo behavior
With eye glue on the rearview mirror
Then a thought takes over
One I've never had before
Maybe it'd be a little easier
As a simple passenger
How exactly? Well that I'm not sure

©2024

Words without actions;
lost opportunity.

I'm not afraid of gods
Not particularly afraid of man
The ones that give me pause
Are the ones who think they themselves
Are made in the image of their gods
Gods by association, what are the odds?
They will stop at nothing
To hide the fact
They're both a fraud
I swear to god

©2024