Poetry For Everyday People
Flying Above Melting Time
I'm sorry your
pain fell short
of madness,
left you
in a state of
nowhere,
not quiet crazy,
not quiet sane,
not quiet content,
at the water coolers
everybody bends down
too tired to grab their
ankles so they just rest
their hands on their knees
and take it, then walk around
all day feeling it until happy
hour, there, they shed off
the misery and grab a hold of
momentary dreams, victories, hope,
walk out of the bars with chance,
a few more years at the water coolers
and it's up to the top floors, where
they will have to bend down and take
it by the cappuccino machine, no longer
from nine to five but from seven to eight,
and you walk around feeling it, constant,
too late for happy hour, too tired for after
hours,
the top floors have no mercy, tired or not,
you gotta grab your ankles, tired or not,
you gotta work late, tired or not,
you gotta leave your dreams outside the doors,
I'm sorry your
pain fell short
of madness,
left you
in a state of
nowhere,
not quiet crazy,
not quiet sane,
not quiet content,
I was lucky,
I climbed all the way
up to the twentieth floor
and jumped off
with a self
written parachute
and have yet
to touch ground.
pain fell short
of madness,
left you
in a state of
nowhere,
not quiet crazy,
not quiet sane,
not quiet content,
at the water coolers
everybody bends down
too tired to grab their
ankles so they just rest
their hands on their knees
and take it, then walk around
all day feeling it until happy
hour, there, they shed off
the misery and grab a hold of
momentary dreams, victories, hope,
walk out of the bars with chance,
a few more years at the water coolers
and it's up to the top floors, where
they will have to bend down and take
it by the cappuccino machine, no longer
from nine to five but from seven to eight,
and you walk around feeling it, constant,
too late for happy hour, too tired for after
hours,
the top floors have no mercy, tired or not,
you gotta grab your ankles, tired or not,
you gotta work late, tired or not,
you gotta leave your dreams outside the doors,
I'm sorry your
pain fell short
of madness,
left you
in a state of
nowhere,
not quiet crazy,
not quiet sane,
not quiet content,
I was lucky,
I climbed all the way
up to the twentieth floor
and jumped off
with a self
written parachute
and have yet
to touch ground.
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Flying Above Melting Time
Flying Above Melting Time
