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.


Author: therealkenjones

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

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