I feel like such a zombie.
Going through life,
Watching,
Thinking,
Stuck in my impenetrable
Dazed bubble of
Quiet.
My foot is caught
In a bear trap covered in
Poison containing the
Numbness of
Routine.
Routine;
It's such a leech.
It sucks and sips
On your hot blood that's full of
Longing
For anything
Unpredictable.
I ache for a better life;
One filled
With late night reading,
Messy, mediocre paintings
That I'll still be proud of,
Early morning writing
Outside while
Observing the incredible
Pre-dawn nature,
And no concerns about the
Time;
Because it wouldn't matter.
Any time would be time
For doing whatever I wished;
Avoiding the dread
Of reluctant obligations.
