Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash
Furrowed brow, vacant stare
Mind focused yet unaware
Knuckles tight as I make my way
Here we go, another day
Immersed I am in things to do
My job is important, without it who
am I do you think
Drink, it’s Friday night
A chance to escape the fight
The endless toil given to me by whom
Le grand autre I have succumbed to you
Driving
Radio is on
I can hear it, it carries me along
Making my way every single day
40 years now, wasted away
Doing things you know I’d rather not
Before, I almost forgot
For the sake of a bright shiny thing
Intangible now
You know, I’d trade it all in
For that feeling, I had when I was a child
It was easy then… when I was alive
Thanks for taking the time to read my stuff. Every morning you’ll find me sharing a new thought on life, art, work, creativity, the self and the nature of reality on The Reflectionist.
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