A dull mind and shadowed eyes,
we call it looking towards the future.
Passion bleakens as reality sets in,
the chill of the 9-5 pounds at your temples.
The car stereo becomes your meditation,
the drive-thru bags contain your sustinence.
Hurry, hurry, hurry
even if you don't know what you're running towards.
Moments missed are barely given a second thought,
you'll be the richest man in the grave.
Terror, horror, angst and devastation
you never thought you'd be longing for them again.
Your brain is numb, your thoughts have atrophied
You succumb to the temptation of the white picket fence
and then you post about it on Facebook.