Memory, Routine and Creation
I wonder how much life am I forgetting
Which parts wandered and got lost in the fog
For each and every time my eyes start wetting
I ponder if I’m just remembering it wrong
I wonder how much of life is in a vacuum
Failing to break away from flat routine
Spent years in suffocation in a classroom
Dulled down to be a cog in the machine
The wispy sun sighs through my curtains
I’m not particularly prideful of my job
Don’t do great work like scientists or surgeons
I just create and close my eyes when it feels wrong
I doubt how much of life I’m living forwards
The weeks and ends get jumbled in my head
I try to feel it out and sketch the borders
But all my convolutions turn to lead
My thoughts are friction turning into vapor
Collecting it is in my adenine
Give birth each time I put my pen to paper
And when I die they’ll put my sh*t in a museum
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