2 No 1 N Particular

It’s 2 late 2 say I should have been
There 4 U when U needed a friend
2 lean on, a shoulder 2 cry on,
Ignored U I have, but today we shall move on
They say Time Heals All Wounds
Well if that statement is true, then my timing could use
A little better placement – because N the technology age of facebooking friends
True reason is lost – never 2 B heard from again
We can’t reenact the past – but it is possible 2 formulate a long lasting
Impression - and it’s from the pits of depression that I write this to U –
These words of congestion, confession and truth.
Your suggestions have been noted N my memories of the fondest times
Like back N the day when we used 2 get high
On life by living N the moment – better hold onto them tightly
Don’t know about U but I consider those moments golden

Message 4 My Step-Mom

Watching U die slowly
Is making me cry, feeling ever so lonely
For U.
When did we quit trying?
And when will we start fighting?
For life and exuberance
Instead of just living - under the turbulence
On the outside, we can pretend it's alright
But on the inside, it's a constant fight
I wish I didn’t have 2 bear witness
2 your disheartening conditions, examples of which are 2 numerous
2 mention, or give it extra attention
I wish I had your undivided attention, right now
Instead I have 2 write cryptic rhymes
Time after time, searching 4 words
But nothing I can say will ever make it right
What shall we do?
What kind of life has God given 2 U?
People everywhere love U
But take it from me, encouragement can be hard 2 find
When you’re sitting in bed, like a hospital bed – all of the time
Speaking of time, I keep thinking it’s only a matter of time
And that fucking sucks
Fuck all the doctors
Fuck all the pills
Fuck the prescriptions, because fucking drugs kill
They’re not making U better, they’re making it worse
And I don’t have the words 2 tell you how bad it hurts
Already in push-away mode, because why get close 2 someone
Who doesn’t want 2 get try 2 get better?
God please give us strength 2 fight through this bad weather

I keep telling myself I can make a difference
Even though, thus far things have felt so insignificant
With nothing to fight 4, it’s like I’m pacing in circles therefore -
Still living paycheck to paycheck – nothing steady on the horizon
Already heavy is my heart, beating cold like a bass drum

Creativity Killed the Cat

God give me something good to write about
It’s like the passion is all gone and I’m left searching for whereabouts
Pacing in circles, it’s like my talent is wasted
Tasting defeat, circle back and retreat
Making ends meet but I’m not on my feet
Solid ground feels so heavy, weighing my options ever so mightily
Go to bed scared because I’m so unprepared
For life after 30, no matter how much I drink, I’m still waking up thirsty
From working this dead end position – it’s not what I would have envisioned
Back in the days of milking the system, mabee it’s karma rearing ugly head

Corporate America

Corporate America

Like a robot I’m programmed into the same ol’ routine
Got the game face ready, about to enter the regime
Of slimy sales and broken toenails
Walking across eggshells as I’m makin’ that dollar

Better highlight the favorites cause I’m setting new standards
Cranking the volume, trading handouts for favors
So far down in the doldrums as the numbers keep slumping
Sooner or later I’ll be back on the chopping block

No friends in this business – everyone’s in it to win it
A big deal on the table – cranking the cold calls
This place is like a concrete wall – impossible to climb
But this time I’m trying – to get through the unwinding
Monotony – how could they possibly….
Expect for me to build houses
Using these archaic tools

It’s like searching for fools gold at the end of a rainbow
Forecasting a scapegoat – give me, give me, give me
Liberty or give me death
Even Patrick Henry couldn’t have predicted this fight.