The more I think I need to move on, i realize I have no need... to pursue this existence
Materials, cash, and fame at the expense of my face.
A dysfunctional daily routine, wears away at me.
I’m tired of wanting to hurt, being frustrated...
Feeling wired that I haven’t lashed out.
The flip side, pleased that control becomes my skill,
Dependent.
Not on drugs never a issue,
Say no to beers,
Second nature my desires run deeper,
Alla's the temptation of women,
I devour as admire moments of beauty.
Still the tone of longing in my voice and my body language
How the days remain, with much to do, much to say nothing achieved.
There must be another way.
Computers, worlds within worlds within worlds, no where fast, communication like content thin, false relations,
Mostly the intention of sin,
I philosophise as I realise the need not to breed,
or to be freed,
freedom is ideal,
we are free,
we just don’t know how to be.
That is the problem
You have to ask your self.
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