Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

In My Sock Drawer

I haven't yet harnessed the
Power of motivation, though
I see where it sleeps at night.
In my sock drawer.

Which is weird,
Because I don't have a dresser,
But that's where it is…

I'm clearly a blob of stress,
I tell this to the sky
And pray to Mother and Father God
That things don't become
Too damn much.

I think I've heard the angel's cry,
Though, they say angels don't cry
Because they don't know sadness,
Only love and affection.

What I wouldn't give to know
Only love and affection.

I wonder if the angel's hide in my sock drawer too.
I wonder if there's enough room for me.
I wonder if my sanity was lost there.
I wonder if I'm doing the right thing.

I'm always wrong.
I'm so used to backwards and
How everything I do, no
Matter how decent the intentions are,
It's always wrong.

I'm quite tired.
They say that's what happens
When you're employed, but,
I'm tired for different reasons.

Tired of the smoldering maybes
That always answer my questions.

Tired of wondering it
Everyone has a shine, somewhere
Within this earth, this domain.

And her… Tired of her too.

But she is a consistency I can't shake,
And I can't help but be bothered
By notions and thoughts about
What would happen
Had I been there.

I was concerned
About who was talking about me
Behind my back.

Turns out it was only the
Voices in my head.

I wish they would linger in my sock drawer too.

July 16, 2005
Suge


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In My Sock Drawer

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