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Poem

Racing, racing, racing…
Begins when the covers engulf me
In the lunar blackness
Where small sounds groan
Oh I’ve bested you, my friend!
Wait, that argument was four days ago
Fear, is death
For he who fails to
Act on ambition
Out of fear, dies
An inch with each waning
The Marble Faun
How did Faulkner conjure such
A picturesque title?
But what does it mean?
Racing, racing, racing…
Few hundred bucks is obsolete
In the grand scheme of it all
NF said it marvelously
Most important
Things in life to me
Are things I know I
Can’t buy
Racing, racing, racing…
An hour bleeds
Simpletons surround
Intelligent conversation does not
NF again
I’m not in the mood,
To have a conversation
And talk about a bunch of
Things I don’t feel amazed with
What do you want out of this life?
What are your true and deepest desires?
Seems like I’m the only one
Asking these questions
Few friends, maybe
Most caught up in trivial matters
Let’s go change worlds  
Brick by brick 
Racing, racin…ra…

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