I’m Dyin’ Here

It’s a funny thing not knowing when or where

only why.

Then again, it’s not that funny

dyin’ here.

Modern discomforts, to give it a name.

Just another box.

These products and processes

Just another pox.

And everything’s been said,

And there’s nothing I can do

And I don’t leave time for

breathing the air–or looking for love.

‘Cause everything is wrong.

It’s all that I hate.

It’s so unfair.

Yet things still grow,

And places I haven’t been, that I could go

while standing here aches and makes the ankles swell;

Just another cave.

So I recline and stare (like every other cog)

Just another grave.

Meanwhile, there’s life-lovin’ livin’ to get done!

…and I’m sitting here

by myself–missing it.

I’m tired of dyin’ here–so far from you

Just another day.

On this winding path, walls to rivers

Just another way.

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Author: therealkenjones

writer, artist, wannabe photographer, recovering Southern Californian...

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