Well im 32
I spent too long adoring my own flaws
While stuck in this room im
Ruminating grooming little doubts
I sucked on the spoon
So hard the silver all came off
Im fearing offers too good
To give up doing what i love
Cause i need comfort
I'm getting to that age where you need comfort
My friends all have kids
They left the city, im a sitting duck
Too poor to exist as an artist
In this city and save up
For a trip or any form of home
Its forming thoughts fairly grim
What do i even own
I dont own comfort
And im getting to that age where you need comfort
life's financial cage it doesn't offer
much leeway
a rich mans empty residence
Sure sets a shitty precedent
im trying to live
Before a full blown mid life crisis starts
My soul has some give
I tried to glue it down to different spots
im forced through a sieve
Intended to extract the savory parts
But part of me still insists that
Chaos wins when faced with heart
and i know
I wasn't born on steady ground
But i grow
endlessly in tandem
With lifes sores
That talk trash
Pick em up and do a dance
Kiss their foreheads
Break their necks
Stocks and bonds and
love and heartache
Ostentatious art you might make
Claim your space
Embrace pretension
Ambivalence it chokes
potential