A lasting buzz is harder to achieve.
Tempting, it is, to live outside my dealings
and run away from nothing every night.

Attempting to find meaning in this farce,
Pleads me to ache, and chase it that much faster.
And all for just a fleeting moments peace.

I look to childish idles for advice,
and if that fails, look deeper at the books
that drove good people to an early death.

Don't punish me for copying the greats,
just try to understand that I need help,
And be there for the times when all seems lost.

And if I fail, as I so often do,
my ego will need kissing better to,
Before I realize what I've become.

Pretension, is now all that I have left.

07/03/2008

Author's Note: Stream of conscious, I shall probably rewrite it when I'm thinking straight.

Posted on 07/03/2008
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