Materialistic lament
I'm faced with debility, a deluded idea
that i can make a change by doing nothing at all,
staying the course. No matter how
this my effect my fate.
there are visions of delirium
that come from a life of captivity.
It's not the loneness that kills you.
It's the echos, scratching voices
that cling to the walls refusing
to be understood. Poor calamities.
My disposition affords me no ignorance
at this point. My days, not a night's rest.
My eyes are darkened so that nothing escapes
they want for nothing in-between fleeting blinks.
relief, light just something to look forward to a vision.
A vision that's not obscured by ego or materialistic lament.
But one that's full of love and understanding
the resolution of the full picture.
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