I used to compose
on worn slabs of concrete.
I used to roll back and forth challenging my projected stopping points.
Sometimes I would succeed.
Other times I would fail.
Sadly the veil of my youth slipped away to reveal the barrenness of maturity and the never ending press of
Responsibility.
Motivation.
Heaven sent in its finer times, Grotesque in its dogged hours.
Unrelentlessness
A skill worth having
Uncontrolled it is nothing but a beast of burden.
Somedays I wish I was back on those concrete slabs
but no matter how hard I wish
fruition will never come
For those well worn slabs are now 3 story houses
built Up
instead of
Out
No comments:
Post a Comment