remnants of the life I'm running from.
Filled with psycho-babble and tips
to be the best you can be.
To supposedly prepare you
for what this world can bring.
I have lost myself for hours
days, months and years
falling into the plan
executing every exercise
manipulating my mind
to the point its only purpose is production.
I have run through relationships
run over heads
stomped with my shit-kickers
and left my mark.
Alas, these supposed instruction manuals
failed to provide me the secret
to dealing with the consequences
of a conscious that fails to submit
to the black gas of more.
In my blue room, beside these texts of "modern wisdom"
you'll find another shelf
not dusty, and filled to overflowing
It is filled with the voices of people,
of breaking hearts and brilliant minds
of those, who like me
discovered the error of their ways
and in an effort to control the damage
poured their hearts on the page.
They are my guru's
my go to's
and in knowing their words
I know their worlds
my heart and mind
may rise to face me.