I will work on my posture when I’m dead,
But for now I will breathe strong and slouch
While writing stupid poems while riding a bike.
And hold a typewriter like a gun to grammar’s head.
This maze inside
This maze outside
This maze that changes inside my mind
Is all part of the sacred grove
That gives you sores when you are found
But heals you when you are lost.
Enough is never enough
Somewhere up there
Where I can hear the fog.
Bouncing forever bouncing,
Let me sing laughs that echo in a Labyrinth
And we will probably hurt and scar
But we will be found
And maybe I will be pretending
Eventually I will become habit proud.
Every hero has a path
But not all have a plan,
My blueprints burned in years of yearning,
Because life lit them on fire
Because life is bigger than we are,
And that sucks.