Boxed In

Time reclaims its grip tightly again
Follow the path for long enough,
tracing all its bends,
then deal with the relapse when it comes.
All the answers are locked behind the same wall,
all hidden in the same box
Can’t help but wonder who has the key
There’s got to be a way to manipulate these things.
Pulling the curtain might be the last thing I want to do
(leave it all out in the open)
The freshest air always gets tainted
The best of all timing always gets wasted
This feels like an experiment gone wrong
Sometimes things just go awry,
not every single bird knows how to fly.
‘Get me the hell out of here,’ I’m always thinking
Then what am I doing always coming back
I’m trying to get the hell out
bags are already packed
There’s a box waiting for me and you and you
and all of us
I had no premonition to prevent this
but even if I had,
I never would’ve learned then
Unlocked the box with all the answers
I should’ve burned instead.

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Insanity

Do all you can to relax,

take deep breaths, 

take your time, 

take things slow

It may still seem impossible 

But daydreams make it feel logical 

Sharp snap back to reality, 

and the smog covers over 

can’t see to the other side 

You can only wait it out and know that you’ll survive 

no matter how long it takes 

these things come to pass 

You could wait and flip and flip the hourglass

Everything is rarely clearly revealed 

It’s all a guessing game and putting faith in something that may not be real

Play the game for keeps 

and keep all the leverage you can get 

Try to figure out existence 

but the purpose, I can’t guess 

What if we can’t nail it down 

Until we do we will wander around aimless 

I watch the dial spinning on my moral compass

Money, sex, love, success, or happiness, 

the dial’s out of control

And if there is an afterlife, well how am I to know

I can only find out whenever I die 

Or I’ll wait to find what cross I am nailed to

Do I have a cause I would wear a crown of thorns for 

Sometimes I am lost I would die to find something to carry on my back 
But I just can’t 

no matter how much I search, 

I’m like a foot soldier who’s lost the battle and the war 

And so much more

And so much less simultaneously 

And my opus I’m still writing in an untimely manner – of course – 

I don’t know what’s the matter anymore 

Tired of this illusion 

Tired of this confusion 

Tired of this constant state of bemusement

Tired of uncertainty, 

give me a foregone conclusion

I won’t search anymore I’m too exhausted for any movement 

If someone wants or needs me they can prove it –

even if I won’t believe it’s true or absolute 

because trusting anyone is too hard to do – 

I’ll set up my defense mechanisms once it’s too late 

Serving a sentence for my own carelessness

I’ll care too much and then give up 

But sometimes all the doors are closed

and no one opens up a window 

Getting in is sometimes just as hard as getting out 

There is nothing that makes sense here 

My mind is troubled by endless doubt.