Coagulated motion, stuffed into a box
Appeal to stagnation breeds strong
The fluff in my head is toxic
Turbulent times paralyze these knuckles
I sway, head down, looking for something
To rid this night of insignificance.
The numbers rise and fall
Magnetized to the motion of opportunity cost.
Do I stay and eek forward, intent lost?
Or walk elsewhere to cash in on the impulse of nothing?
Weary roams the lonely
Defeated by this day’s actions.
Studious to obligatory needs, yet
Appalled in the aftermath of fucking off rest.
This day was meant for luxury among the weak
However seldom the time alone may be…
This day was built for wellness
But the strength of my hierarchy of needs
Has fucked the kinder side off.
How am I this way? I labor at the cost.