Thought Chronicles No. 4

 I can’t stand working with someone else, 

I turn into a helper, and they become a/the boss

They think teamwork is telling me what to do

They have their opinion, [but] that opinion ain’t the truth

It’s motel art [on the wall] that nobody pays attention to

I know how to do my job better than they do

It’s dog eat dog, they want a leash around you

Trying to force the next man to assimilate

It’s one man’s preference, he calls it “the right way”

I won’t even remember it after today

I wanna work at my own pace, without you alongside

But I’m in their truck, just along for a ride

Getting a trial by fire is a distant pipe dream

There’s other modes of being, but he can’t see

Sight blocked by prison bars and a flatline beep

Thought Chronicles #3

The fabric of reality comes apart at the seams

Unraveling the stitching of my dreams

I get on yelp and leave Earth a bad review

A defense mechanism against my blue moon

Which is casting a shadow on my baggage [I travel with]

Going faster than it doesn’t give validation

Roll the wheel of misfortune, and I see

What galaxy should I go to, this one ain't for me

Truth be told, the idea of God is cheesy

Humanity has expanded far too much for him

Reliant on the technology that we invented

Our feet froze after we got them wet

Banking our fate on the outcome of a coin flip

Heads or tails funnel sheep in a direction 

A flash drive contains all our memories

A thick barrier between us and creativity

Thought Chronicles no. 2 🖊️

 

If my whole life is just a mark on a paper 

I hope that it’s a comma beneath a period

The semicolon to continue a life sentence

Melting into a one man civilization

I always think I can get free, sail off the map,

But I’m just in the truman show, taking a nap

Forced hypnosis from participating in society

Allure of the open road turns to illusion of privacy

And we’re all just expanding spores of bacteria

Actors following the script of a person

Never their real self, just a contrived concept

They don’t live their passion, they just promote it

They demonize me before they see my perspective

And the paper thin boundaries start to peel away

Stuck between a jagged breath and inevitable decay

Crafted by the same crazy sculptor, and the same clay