Sep 27


It's like a marathon,
but instead of running a reasonable pace
they're asking you to sprint all of the miles,
they're asking you to give enough
that when you finally drop dead in the race,
that your final breath is spent
for not finishing
and for not doing enough.

You churn out idea after idea,
you keep giving until it hurts,
until you're tearing away parts of you
and auctioning those off
because it's the genuine
and the raw
and the original
that we crave.
You go until thinking itself hurts
and you're constantly running on fumes,
and you can feel that hole in your gut,
eating away
and asking for a break
as you starve.

We're constantly breathing out,
giving our energy
and our time
in the name of our productivity,
and we're constantly giving,
but we have nothing left.
We don't have the time to stop,
and to take in,
to inhale,
and to admire.

I think that's why we stood twenty strong
and watched the sky
paint itself in pretty pastels
and flamboyant neons.
There was a collective inhale
as we stood in silence,
and just processed.
We came to a stand still,
a perfect picture,
as we stood back
and just breathed.