Empty Pocket

an empty pocket
lump in my throat
brings me back to my old shadows
and they play like a broken record in a smoke filled room
i'm torn between running away from the heat
and choking
sputtering
to deal with the music

who i am now is well..who i am
who i am now is well..who i once was
and he knocks at the door from time to time
i invite him in
sit him down
and attempt to explain we should probably stop seeing eachother

my mother calls
and I shift and fidget
who am I?
not the weight-lifter
not the insurance guru
not the social worker
not the teacher
i..write
in the darkness
sometimes i dream
big things that weigh heavy
and cause quite a stir when they come crashing down in a million pieces
i'm scrambling to collect myself

school journey
i had to borrow a book from the library today
this one was buried amongst the rows
i had trouble finding it
dropped my backpack
shed my jacket
sweated
huffed and puffed
crawled on my knees
stood on my tip toes
and with a red face met marvin francis

later in class the tension was high
some will pass some will fail some will die
I'm sweating through the lecture
is it hot in here or what?
blood boils with minimum wage rage
everyone thinks
i'm going to change the world
go somewhere past this small town
travel the world and stop fixing rich people drinks

-dev