stuck in this run-down town
where the soap leaves your hands
feeling worse off than they were
and you just can't feel anything, goddamnit -
except this constant gnawing need
to do something, anything;
but instead you sleep the afternoon away
and it turns dark at 5 o'clock
so what's the use in trying?
you fall into another routine
of eating whatever's cheap,
bathing irregularly,
staring at computer screens,
wishing you were anywhere else,
and cleaning those goddamn crumbs
off the stove, thanks to your
inconsiderate roommate you
haven't seen in weeks.
not that you care.
you haven't cared in years.
and that's why you're in this mess
of an ambition-dead life.
jesus christ, what the hell happened?
you could've asked for help, but
fuck that. your own your own.
no one fucking understands.
but that's like saying
you're the only person who likes Star Wars -
it's just not true, and it's
almost pompous, in a way.
god, I have nothing to show for myself -
and whose fault is that?
quit whining. quit dreaming.
if you want to write, write -
you have the goddamn pen
in your hand, no one's stopping you.
it's so easy to waste your time
and never amount to anything.
take a challenge for once.
god, try telling people how you feel -
they're human too, you know.
what a faceless wimp.
go drown in your pathetic sorrow.
wake up with a goal in mind,
maybe you'll actually get somewhere.
look out your window and see the world
how it really is - not some hellhole,
just somewhere that people
can live their lives.
you make it rain, you turn the sky
into that desperate grey color.
bugs can't dream, but you can.
take a look outside of that
blind little world of yours, for once.
it's not too hard, to try.
stop wasting your time
and try to do something

TMK 6aug2007