01.07.25

The new & unknown is tiring.

The old & routine is boring.

No matter the morph of circumstance I find the problem, I hate it, it’s a sickness, I want to cut it out.

Where is happiness? It’s right here, not beyond but prior to the bullshit. The mind dances from one thing to another & our souls get dragged through the mud behind it.

Is it society or my mind that tells me to stay hungry? That hunger thats never fulfilled until it’s been decided it has. Rats on a wheel.

As the time ticks away I’m never doing enough, each second sounds like a bell tower, & as I watch the seconds drop by I become disgusted.

I can float on by blissful, happy, & dumb or I can be an ambitious grouch.

Has it all become too much, have we become fat pigs? When was the last time enough was enough? When was the last time you sat with what is, satisfied?

I’m not here to tell you you’re on the right path, I’m here to tell you you’re fucking up.