An unsettled feeling twists in my gut, as I think of everything I haven't done. Every ounce, fragile pound of weight set upon my bones, leaves me lethargic. There is more to my life than work. My friends are embodiments of love, that God or whoever made us, gave to ease our pain. I am caught in the joy of movement. The joy of travel. The idea that escapism is enough. But how do you escape your own brain? How do you escape your own body? This life is what you make of it. But I want to know what made me. Am I truly in control? Or is this all some sort of sick joke? My thoughts are made up of question marks. But question marks do not give me answers. And what if I get the answers I want but they don't settle right with me?

What if this life is made up of more than question marks?

I am a walking talking PSA for the incorrect way to live
Number of dollars in my bank account matches how many ***** I give
Counting change
Pay for gas so I can go to work
I get stuck behind the transit again
I'm gonna go berserk!
A little ****
Start my day
..Or more like a lot
The location of my pipe I've somehow forgot
Mismatched socks
Greasy hair
Bloodstains on jeans
For breakfast had coffee and a bag of jellybeans
Bearing ***** nails and even dirtier mind
A hole in my pantseams right in the behind
Positive thinking not doing me any good
Failed everything I have tried believing I could
Negative thinking has not worked either
Applied both
Found success in neither
The marks humans left on skin and my feelings
Turned my pride into a pile of peelings
Where am I going?
Haven't a clue
Trying to climb out of the hell I fell into
Going crazy searching for an escape route
That does not exist because there's no way out

I got myself tattoed
On the places
You used to leave
Love bites on


The bitter sweet marks
I wish i could relive
But has already come to an end