i think the poem i'm sharing with you this week epitomizes the way i've been feeling. i've been waking up every day depressed, knowing that i'm occupying the rest of my day with things that don't better me as a person. instead, they work me into a mold that i don't want to fit, where everybody else fits who can't break away. this is the majority of the people i see around me. working jobs they hate, getting paid barely enough to get by, putting their energy into things that benefit the community and never themselves. i say, be selfish. better yourself. be something or someone different. also, go read fight club. and this, what i wrote the other day:

"there's something inside me, dying."

there's something inside me, dying.
my motivation's color, it's going gray,
and my innovation has growing pains.
these days,
my creativity can't throw a spiral
and my individuality can't catch.
I stopped by the supermarket
to pick up Rogaine
for my inspiration's receding hairline.
my originality
my personality
my identity
needs to pay the utilities
so that there's running water
for my ingenuity's shower
before work in the morning.
my soul uses public transportation,
and my imagination carpools.
after work, my passion gets a bite to eat
at McDonald's.
supersized.
my fountain of youth is a clogged artery
and regret is the heart attack,
waiting to happen.
there's something inside me,
dying.