This Life is Futile
I write to live
My life doesn’t have much meaning when I’m not putting words on paper
I wake up feeling dread about my day job
Envisioning a life where I could sit in hotel rooms and write
Sit on beaches and write
Where the words in my head could have an avenue to travel
And not get shoved down
By my need for a paycheck
And health benefits
A life that is indicative
Of my thoughts feelings and actions
A life created through my dreaming
About a life I truly want to live
Yes, like countless others
I want to travel the world,
And live in a country that is perhaps
Not the US
One with tropical fruit
And exotic animals
I desire a life well-lived
With healthy fruit
Off of a tree
Lazy mornings in bed listening to a macaw
And some howler monkeys
Drinking my local rainforest coffee
And not scraping ice off of my windows
Or…
