Time And Pressure

When I say I'm losing, what I really mean is that I'm on my way to being lost in something more. Well that doesn't sound so bad now does it? I've rubbed shoulders with people looking to be found to be someone, to be something, to just be proud. To tilt their heads back and bask in a lukewarm spotlight cast down from catwalks of superstition. I've shaken hands with men whose finely tailored suits just didn't fit. Clothes don't make the man; so stop wearing yourself thin. To a clinical observer of the human carnival the games all sound the same, "pick me, pick me, love me, use me." They call to each other like crickets at dusk and I rock myself to sleep, softly, to their song. There's music in the sky if you know how to listen up. There's power in the soil if you let yourself believe. And there's good company to be found at eye level. Stop looking up, stop feeling down stop trying to be found. Lose yourself. There's a liar in everything familiar.