You can't always be up, kid.

It's just not quite fast enough
especially now that the coffee is inside me.
Holding on to too many words
can kill you there and then
leaving a disgruntled replica of yourself
staring at the smarmy
'I'm happy with this nothing' army
who are staring at a talking pig
as part of a feature film
about the very same talking pig.
Adults discussing the warm memories
of that fucking talking pig,
and laughing along with it
as the fucking pig talks.
 
Politics are killing my faith
in a fighting system
and the bruises aren't healing fast enough.
I've got to stop going down this
'look what I'm doing' road.
I should put more time in your pots.
I don't want you worrying about those limitations
that you went and made up
to limit yourselves
anymore.
 
It's so god damn easy,
it's just really fucking hard
before you start.
You stare at it
and whisper
'I can't do that,
I can never do that'
and then walk away
straight back to whatever it is.
 
I can't grasp it anymore;
of course a little intellectualism
hides a lot of truth
from us,
but still...
Being subservient to staying still
in all its possible meanings.
I think we naturally hide
from our own ambitions,
and we do it so well
that most of us
never really learn
what they are.