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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